DIY Hunger Games
by JinniaFlyer450
Summary: The parade is UP, and we're getting a different viewpoint for it! We're headed to the fighting prep next...or, see my profile for another option! And may the odds be ever in your favor! ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

Okay guys! No more new tributes! While I prepare the Reapings, here's the lineup!!! If your character dies "late", this is your chance to size up your competition! Name Gender District Age

Girl 3 17

Girl 8 13

Girl 11 12

Girl 6 14

Girl 4 15

Boy 1 17

Boy 11 12/10/15(he has told Thistle he's 15.)

Boy 6 18

Boy 3 14

Girl 12 15

Boy 2 16

Boy 10 17

Girl 9 16

Boy 5 15

Girl 7 16/17

Girl 2 17

Girl 5 13

Boy 8 15

Male 4 18

Male 12 14

Male 7 16

Female 10 14

Male 9 13

24. Irina Female 1 13

Sincerely,

JF450


	2. District OneCronus

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue! This is Cronus' Reaping. I will go through everyone's reaping from Districts 1-12, boys first (disregarding custom, and, I believe, disregarding the book, but I will say that the order of choosing genders alternates off, and since this is the Hunger Games after the book…) Also, Zeus is the guy's brother, since Cronus is also known as Saturn in mythology…)**

The Town Square was abuzz in District One. Tension and anticipation rippled through the air, as all the boys and girls aged 12-18 waited impatiently for their spokesman to reveal their secret hope:

"_Would it be me?"_

_"Could I win?"_

_"Could I be the one to show those impertinent pups in District Twelve that they're still, well, District TWELVE, and we're top dog?"_

_"Please choose me! I need it! For Zeus, if no one else!"_

These last musings belonged to one boy, Cronus, who was currently shifting from side to side. He muttered his plea stated above. Then, he scanned the crowd. Which one could be his competitor? That was if, of course, he was District One's boy, but he couldn't help but wonder. He disliked almost everyone in his district, and wanted to see most of the girls gone. But what if one of them killed him first? He shuddered at the thought, and took a mental note to not offend any of the girls.

Also, if he got picked, he would kill both of District Twelve's tributes in the bloodbath. This was not a question. It was a statement. He had never before had anything against District Twelve-hey; those hicks usually weren't a problem to District One anyway-but ever since that wretched Katniss shot the arrow that claimed his brother's life, just to get to that stupid girl from District Eleven, he had wanted vengeance. Pure, sweet vengeance. He wanted to make those creeps from District Twelve pay, and pay, and PAY!

"Umm, hello? Cronus? Are you in there?" Cronus looked up to see the owner of the voice, and his heart melted, chasing out all thoughts of revenge. It was his girlfriend, Rose.

"Hi Rose!" He grinned like a fool. They shared a quick kiss, and then Rose spotted one of her friends, and, after glancing at Cronus apologetically, started talking to her.

Rose had been the first girl ever who wasn't scared off by Cronus' 6'4" frame and tough appearance, and his tendency to chase everyone away. In return, Cronus had given her his heart, completely and totally, and she had given hers. He knew he was a little overprotective. One incident especially came to mind:

_"Yeah, she's my girl. You got a problem with that, punk?" Cronus shook his fist at the small guy that just happened to be strolling by, who promptly peed himself._

Yeah, he was definitely a little overprotective.

He fingered the ring that he was planning to use as a token, which had Rose's name engraved on it. She was the only thing he was concerned about leaving behind.

Finally, the spokesperson opened his mouth after fishing around in the Reaping Ball.

"And the boy tribute for District One is…"

Everyone held his or her breath.

"Cronus Glarre!"

As Cronus stepped onto the block, he looked toward the sky.

_"Zeus, this is for you."_

He could see Rose fighting to get through the crowd, her face an effigy of fear and sadness.

"NOO!!!" she wailed. All he could hope now was that she wasn't picked beside him.

That would be like murdering himself.


	3. District OneIrina

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue! This is Irina's Reaping, and the end of District One's Reapings.** **Just in case you're wondering, this is based off a big fad over in the TDI fandom, where you can send in your characters and hold your own season of the show. In TDI, this started with Total Drama World, so this is inspired by cocodamien.**

Meanwhile, an unassuming blonde girl named Irina was in the middle of the crowd, wondering when this was all just going to be over.

_"Why can't this just be over? I already know who it is… I-R-I-N-A-O-L-L-E."_

This was not the kind of arrogance that some of the self-stated "Career Tribute" girls were thinking, the kind that required a large ego and some overconfidence.

This was fact, pure and simple. Irina Olle had rigged the Reaping of District One.

Of course, they would never have suspected her of anything.

"_No,"_ she thought bitterly, _"they can never see how fast I can run, or how high I can climb. They can never see how unbelievably smart I am. Everyone is horribly, terribly blinded by the color of my, long, blonde hair."_

She would never call it beautiful, even though to others it might be called that. She saw it as a curse. A beautiful curse, perhaps, but still a curse. Wherever she would go, no matter why she was there or what she was doing, people would see her hair and dismiss her as dumb, and unimportant. Everyone would always think her opinion was stupid, and all she would ever care about was breaking a nail and boys. They would also always think that just because she seemed to be happy-go-lucky and was always nice to everyone, she was without a dark side and could be used for their own nasty means without her striking back.

She had rigged the Reaping to show them differently. Everyone would see "stupid blonde Irina" in the arena, and she would show all of them everything she could do. She would show all of them that they were terribly, horribly wrong about her when she came home, the winner of the Hunger Games!

"Hello? Earth to Irina!" a slightly giggly voice squealed. Irina, very happy to see the owner of the voice, her best friend Star, squealed in return, and they hugged. After discussing the impending Reaping, Star's annoying little brother, and boys, Star had to go back to her parents.

Irina was slightly envious of Star. Star, for one, had closely cropped black hair that would never get her called "dumb" and "stupid". Star also would actually get people who wanted to go out with her for _her_, instead of for apparent simplemindedness, and therefore the possibility that she could be used. Star, though a couple stories short of a skyscraper, was always given a chance to prove her worth, whereas Irina was labeled "blonde" and stuffed in a corner, never able to do anything without her label tied around her neck, like the white necklace with a carved rose in the center that she was planning to wear as a token.

Finally, the spokesperson opened his mouth after again fishing around in the Reaping Ball.

"And the girl tribute for District One is…"

Everyone held his or her breath. Irina could see that the boy tribute from her district was gazing fearfully somewhere in the crowd. She followed his gaze and found a shock of red hair and green eyes belonging to a girl, the same one who had wailed when he had been picked. Was she his girlfriend?

_"At least I saved him from having to kill her, or having to watch her die." _Irina was slightly uplifted by this thought. _"At least I saved him from that horror beyond horrors." _

"Irina Olle!" Dead silence pervaded as Irina strode up to the block. She gazed down at her district, and was disgusted by what she saw. Of course, she didn't really expect any better from most of them.

They were sure that she would die in the bloodbath. She could see it in their eyes. They were quite sure that she could never win; that District One's hopes for winning rested on the boy tribute. Even most of her friends, of whom she had many, had resigned themselves to the fact that she was going to die, and that she was going to die soon.

She wasn't going to die soon. She had already made up her mind about _that_.

_"Just you wait, District One. Just—you—wait."_

**There we go! District One: complete!**


	4. District TwoZuran

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!

It was hot and muggy in District Two.

Zuran Alminix was not affected.

In fact, he was actually pretty comfortable, as the butler was following him around with a fan. Since he didn't have to worry about the heat making him shiny and ugly, his thoughts turned to his favorite (and only) subject: himself.  
_"I. Am. So. Hot!" _

The thing was, everyone else in District Two thought so, too. Most of the girls would melt into blubbering puddles at a mere glance from him, and most of the boys hated the very marrow of his bones.

Of course, he wasn't aware anyone could hate him. After all, he was hot. Everyone should adore him. Everyone should kiss the ground he walked on. After all, they were inferior to his hotness, weren't they? Father provided everything for him, indulging every little whim of his, and _they_ didn't have anyone for them, did they?

With a satisfied smirk, he strutted to his designated area. There was an audible sigh as he passed the crowd, and he could see a couple of girls faint out of the corner of his eye.

_"Oh, yeah! Swoon for me, ladies! You know you want me!" _He flashed a dazzling white grin in everyone's general direction, and a few more girls fainted. If he had enough brain cells to process it, he would've discerned about fifty sets of eyes burning into his back as he sat down on his specially provided bench. He guzzled down his lightly sweetened ice tea, argued with the butler, flexed his muscles at another pack of girls, and mainly chilled out until, as if far off…

"…and the boy tribute for District Two is…"

Zuran had his eyes closed, not having a care in the world what the silly spokesperson was going to say next.

"ZURAN ALMATRIX!"

Zuran grinned. Yay! His name! Another chance to rip off his shirt! He stood up slowly and turned his head.

"Ye-e-e-e-e-s?" he said, still slower, in order to preserve the drama of the moment. He then brought his head up toward the sky and his hands to the center of the shirt, and pulled hard.

"RIP!"

Most of the girls looked like they had died and gone to heaven, either metaphorically, through their ecstatic and awed expressions, or literally, through their prone positions on the ground. The boys were disgusted and turned their heads.

"No, no, no, NO!" The spokesperson looked flustered. "I only need you to come up to the platform! Now, please!"

Zuran frowned. Didn't this lady know whom she was talking to? He stalked up to platform, pouting.

Whoever she was, she certainly knew how to ruin a good time. After all, wasn't he the star of the show?

Wasn't he the star of these silly Hunger Games?


	5. District TwoBrielle

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Somewhere off to the side of the crowd, a tall, stunning blonde girl leaned on a building, looking rather bored. She watched as Zuran Almatrix stormed up to the block

"_Good riddance!" _she thought. While it was true he was good looking, perhaps even as good looking as she was, she could tell he was a couple of buildings short of a Capitol, and a real jerk to boot. Even as she watched her peers dissolve into mounds of jelly because of him, she reminded herself that she was…ah, way out of his league. He could never get in her league. Ever.

In fact, no guy could ever be in her league. She was simply too much of a good thing for any of those unsightly losers. No one else could ever match her, either. The only reason every single girl in District Two hated her was because they wanted to _be _her, and she knew it, too.

"_And who wouldn't want to be me?"_ she smirked, brushing a stray hair out of her face. She was fast, smooth, and stunning. She always had a crowd of male admirers near her, and they would protect her from some of the nastier Career Trib females. Of course, she knew that she could protect herself, but where was the fun in that? No, it was much more fun watching her little worker bees duke it out. She sometimes took one of them to be her new boy-toy, but they never lasted. This was because, of course, it was never a relationship between two equals; it was forever a relationship between master and slave. The boys were almost like little robots, tending to her every need, and it was fun for Brielle to mess with their brains. No, she was meant to be alone, for always. And though she never would admit it anywhere but her heart of hearts, she was always a little lonely, since she made mindless drones out of the boys and enemies out of the girls, never once finding a true equal, at least in her eyes.

Satisfied with this appraisal of her social life, Brielle gazed into the crowed. Yes, there they were, her drones, temporarily distracted from her, thank God, and the girls, attempting to burn holes in her with steely, burning gazes.

There were a lot of ways the girls would express their hatred toward her. Some would settle for calling her a, well, "female dog", while others took it one or more steps further, ruining her stuff, attempting to ruin her make-up or reputation, or outright attempting to physically hurt her. However, that particular type of girls came few and far between, and most had settled into a sort of burning acceptance, forever waiting for the day when the star would fall, when Brielle's time was up and one of them could take their turn.

Of course, that would never happen.

Not in a million years.

After all, she was the perfect girl. The one everyone wanted to be. How could that ever go away? The social hierarchy had always been set, and she had always been at the top.

She had never planned on a trip to the Hunger Games, even though her father had gotten her the very best training. Those kind of things happened to ugly people, not her.

"…and the girl tribute for District Two is…"

Brielle sighed, impatient to get back to her life.

"Brielle Loyse!"

Brielle's jaw dropped, and she walked to the platform in a daze. How could this happen?

The boy tribute turned to her and grinned.

"Hey, sexy. Want some of this?"

She responded with a stinging slap across his face. She leaned in close, almost spitting. The NERVE of that guy!

"Listen—punk. You—will—regret—that."

The guy jumped back, obviously shocked. She looked up and down his face.

It may have been pretty, but that wouldn't save him from her knives.

Not by a long shot.


	6. District ThreeJarrah

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Meanwhile, in District 3…

She had been trying to scale the cliff, and her hand had just grazed the top. Even Violet, who had been two at the time, could see that Iris was in deep trouble.

_Specifically, from the boy from District 2, with a club._

_Jarrah had screamed at her to go back down, that she was about to die._

_Of course, his pleading had made no use, as the boy, with a wicked smile smacked Iris with the club and sent her tumbling down the…_

Jarrah shook himself. Going over his sister's death three years ago was not going to help him today. She would never have wanted him to obsess over her, and after all, he had other things to worry about, such as his friend Asher, standing about two yards away.

"Hi Asher!" he said, brightly.

Asher grinned. "Jarrah! Wazzup!

"The sky. So…"

Jarrah and Asher only got in about three sentences apiece of conversation before another friend of Jarrah's joined the conversation.

"Hey, Kale!"

"Hi guys!"

Jarrah got a huge grin as he discussed everything a 14-year old male needed to know in District 3 with his buddies. He never exactly knew what it was about him, but he always seemed to be a people-magnet, attracting all sorts of friends and girls (as his girlfriend Faye could certainly attest). It was never annoying for him, though, because he loved people. He always wanted to be in the crowd, talking to anyone who would listen. And to _lead_ the crowd…wow…that would be so awesome.

Of course, his social endeavors didn't always go so well…

"C'mon Kale, who is she?" he grinned, poking his friend in the gut.

"No one you need to know."

"Ka-le! Come ON!"

"I'm not saying."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

This went on for a while, until Kale left in disgust. Jarrah was a little confused. What had he done wrong? He only wanted to know who Kale's new crush was, after all.

"So, have you seen that new "Hunger Games Winners: Where Are They Now?" show that aired last night? I've heard it's good, but I need your opinion." Asher looked quizzically at Jarrah.

"Well, I think it sucked. Really. If you want to know why…" Jarrah went of on a long explanation for why the new show really, really sucked. Then, they both froze as the spokesperson opened his mouth:

"…and the male tribute for District Three is…"

Jarrah held his breath. He prayed and prayed that it wasn't one of his many friends or his girlfriend. It would seriously suck to lose any of them.

"Jarrah Forsithya!" Jarrah's world seemed to drop out from under him. What? This was not supposed to happen! He had his whole life ahead of him; guys to meet, girls to catch, a life to live! He had his rise to the top of the social pyramid carefully planned!

_"Oh God," _he thought as he dragged himself to the top of the platform. _"Please don't let me die! Wasn't Iris enough for you? I don't think our family can lose another child…" _He could see his friends over to the side, looking as if they had been given their own death sentences.

_"Don't worry, guys," _he thought reassuringly. _"I'm coming back. I promise."_


	7. District ThreeAka

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

A little off to the side of the crowd in District Three, there was an older girl in a ratty trench coat. She gave off a thorny sort of vibe, and no one seemed to want to get anywhere near her except what appeared to be her brother and parents.

It's not that Akai Koomori was nasty at all, really. She just had her own way of doing things, which seemed to intimidate most of the other kids at school. They thought of her as a downer, a punk, and a loner, and those were three big taboos on the social scene.

However, once one got to know her, her loyalty knew no bounds, and she opened up almost everything to her friends.

That said, of course, there were some people she could never have patience for.

"_Oh, look. It's Prince-flipping-Jarrah. I wonder what's going to happen to all his fan girls." _she smirked as Jarrah stepped onto the block.

"Omigod! Jarr-Jarr! NOO!" several voices screamed.

Aka never liked the popular crowd. She thought that anyone looking for topical friends just for sheer quantity was pathetically shallow.

She preferred soul sisters (and occasionally brothers) who knew everything there was to know about you and loved you for it, warts and all. Those were hard to find, but incredibly worth the search. She would follow them to the end of the world, no questions asked.

Of course, her friends were second to her family. The Koomoris were an incredibly tight family unit. They always watched out for each other, even putting their own lives at risk for the sake of the others. After all, they were all they truly had in this world-they had to stick together.

One occasion especially came to mind:

_Aka had decided to take the shortcut home from school, through the dark alleyway. She had known it was incredibly dangerous-after all, it didn't get the name "Armpit of District Three" for nothing-but her brother was there. He always looked about three years older than he was, and he had been over six feet tall, so she doubted any assailants would come after her. Suddenly, she heard a buzzing._

_An awfully familiar buzzing._

_"Tracker-jackers!" she yelled. "RUN!" Most of the time, they only found tracker-jackers at the edge of District Three, but occasionally some sick joker smuggled them in, with sometimes-fatal consequences._

_She ran, and ran, but the tracker-jackers were slowly gaining on her. She was sure she was a goner._

_Then, her brother, who was several feet ahead by now, stopped, turned around, ran back, and started carrying her baby-style away, toward the nearest building. She felt him flinch as a single stinger found its mark, and he stumbled into the house, nearly giving some poor, poor middle-aged woman a heart attack._

_He had then grinned. "I guess it's going to take a lot more than one bumblebee to slow me down, huh?"_

Aka, shaking off the memory, turned to the nervous spokesperson, who was choosing a slip of paper from the Reaping Ball.

"…and the girl tribute from District Three is…"

Aka gazed at him intently.

"Akai Koomori!"

"NOO!" Aka could hear her brother scream. He then regained some composure and said, "I volunteer."

Aka thought about this for about two seconds. Her brother was eighteen. Next year, he wouldn't be in the Reaping Ball anymore. He was smart, and had won a scholarship to a prestigious university in the Capitol itself, he had just gotten engaged to the girl of his dreams, and he had his whole life ahead of him.

The Capitol had no right to take that all away in two seconds.

"No," Aka said. "You don't. I'm going to do this. You actually have a future worth saving. I don't.

Her brother gaped.

"Darling, please reconsider. Your brother…your brother could actually win. He could do this and come home!" her mother pleaded. Aka knew she could get angry at her, but why?

"Mother, I'm sorry."

As Aka strode up to the platform, she sighed nervously.

_"Oh God, I hope I haven't made the wrong choice." _


	8. District FourCrade

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Also, a lot of people have asked me who "Zeus" of Cronus' Reaping fame is. "Zeus" in this case is not the sky god. I know that "Cronus" in Greek/Roman mythology is the time Titan, so I felt the need to have his (dead) brother have a matching name. So, folks, "Zeus" is Cronus' brother.**

In District Four, the Reaping occurred at 10 A.M.

Crade Youlin was more than ready, even though he normally killed anyone who woke him up before noon.

"Son, I'm proud of you for doing this. Not many people would have." His father laid a hand on his shoulder, grinning like a fool. Crade grinned back, ecstatic.

"Are you sure? This is huge, dear. You may not come back alive!" His mother was wringing her hands, looking worried.

"If you haven't noticed, Mother, I'm well built, I had the best training in Panem, and I have the will to win. You can bet I'm coming back alive." He scowled at his mother, seemingly disgusted with her.

As Crade stated earlier, he was quite a force to be reckoned with. He was strong, fast, and mean, with no emotions whatsoever but pride and hunger. This wasn't any normal hunger, however. This was a hunger for sweet, sweet power, gained, his father told him, by snapped necks and stabbed hearts.

Crade's father said that power ran in the family.

His father, many years ago, had been in the 48th Hunger Games, when he was 18. Crade did not have to participate in the Hunger Games if he didn't want to, but he needed that power.

Where else was he going to get it if not in the Arena?

"Crade, I'd like you to have this. It was my token in the Games." His father dropped a small, golden trophy in Crade's hand.

"Thanks, father." Crade said, more than a bit gruffly. However, he knew how important that little trophy was to his father. That thing had been with him through absolutely everything that had ever happened to him, and he guarded it jealously. For him to give it up to Crade was huge. Crade realized that his father must really trust in his ability to win.

That made him feel…special. His chest swelled up with pride.

"Now, remember. Deal with anyone you can at the bloodbath. It will clear the fog and show you your true enemies. Just because someone looks small doesn't mean they aren't dangerous. That was a mistake that nearly cost me my win." His father looked at him intensely. "You got that?"

"And everything else you told me."

"I'll be watching you. Good luck."

"...and the boy tribute for District Four is…"

Crade kept his head held high. This was it! His moment of truth, and power.

"Terrence Theario!"

Terrence Theario nearly wet himself.

Crade spoke up calmly. "I volunteer."

As Crade walked up to the platform, he could see the expressions on everyone's faces. They were of awe, and certainty.

They knew he was going to win. They all knew it.


	9. District FourSavannah

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Savannah Capro was supremely ticked off.

"Listen, kid," she threatened, brandishing her fist. "I'm not your mother, and if you stick around, you are seriously going to get it! Shoo!" The kid screamed and ran off.

Savannah grinned evilly after him. She liked being tough, and all the status that came with it in District Four. She could tell anyone and everyone stories about how she had once strangled a boar with her bare hands, or how she had walked on a bed of nails without even flinching once.

It all came with the training, really. When Savannah had been only three, her father had shipped her off to a training facility for the Hunger Games. She still lived there, except for one month of vacation time when the Hunger Games tributes were chosen. Her trainer toughened her up there, squelching all emotion, scorching all empathy, and general turning her into the ideal tribute. She could remember several incidents from her early years that had shaped her as she was now.

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"_I'm so tired, Appie. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I want to go home." Three year old Savannah tugged on her trainer's arm, almost crying."_

"_First off, I am Apple. Pet names are for wimps. Kapeesh? If I hear you calling me Appie again, you will not go to bed that night." Her trainer shook her fist in Savannah's face, causing Savannah to cry. Her trainer slapped her twice, causing Savannah to stop crying._

"_Second off, you need to learn some things. You are never tired. No matter how hard you work, the perfect tribute is never tired. You will never be hungry. And homes are for wimps who can't hold their own."_

_Savannah nodded, unhappily._

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Five-year-old Savannah looked down at the kitten._

"_Mew!" He rubbed up against her leg, purring._

"_Dandelion, you want me to kill him?"_

"_Correct. You must learn to destroy, no matter what."_

"_But he's so cute!" Savannah hugged him. Dandelion slapped her arm, making Savannah drop him._

"_Some twelve-year-olds in the ring will be cute, but you'll still have to kill them. You may as well learn how to kill now, so that you aren't taken by a moment of weakness in the ring. The perfect tribute has no empathy." Dandelion nodded, glaring at Savannah._

_Savannah, cowed, took one last look at the kitten, and promptly ended its life._

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Seven-year-old Savannah looked up at Rose._

"_Rose," she said, glancing at the pit of snakes. "This is going to hurt."_

"_For you, there is no such thing as pain. Deal with it." Savannah held her breath and jumped in."_

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"And the girl tribute for District Four is…Savannah Capro."

Savannah smiled as she walked up to the platform.

All of her training was about to pay off.


	10. District FiveLorenzo

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games seiries. That honor belongs to Suzanne Collins. Please don't sue!**

Lorenzo Kayai walked into the square. He immediately attracted a whole group of people, and he smiled at them.

He never knew why he was so popular.

It certainly wasn't how he looked, that was for sure. He was fifteen, but looked about twelve, as he was coated in freckles and a little chubby. He was never very eloquent either, or very extroverted. He wasn't especially smart, either.

There was only one thing that Lorenzo could think of, really.

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"_Lorenzo?" Lorenzo's father was bedridden. He looked sickly pale. Lorenzo and his mother knew that their beloved family member was on his way out.. _

"_Yes, Father?" Lorenzo had been eleven at the time. He was scared, not having any experience with death._

"_If I…lose this battle with illness, and I have to leave you and your mother, there's something I want you to remember."_

"_What?"_

"_Don't lose yourself for me. Keep smiling when I'm gone. Life goes on."_

_Lorenzo wanted to scream._

_Instead, he swallowed hard and nodded._

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Ever since then, Lorenzo had managed to abide by his father's orders. Every time something went wrong, Lorenzo forced himself to chin up, to look towards the sunny side. Nothing was so bad that it couldn't get better, right?

Right?

Life, Lorenzo mused, was a good experience overall. For him, the sun was always shining, the birds were always singing, and the glass was always half full. Sure, there were always bad things that could and would happen, but what good would it do to focus on them? He would only make himself miserable! He also believed in the general goodness of humanity. Why would life exist if it were out to get everyone?

He sometimes wondered if his critics were right about him being naïve. Maybe life really did stink!

However, every time he thought this, he felt a flush of guilt. He felt he would be dishonoring his father's memory if he abandoned his orders. His father wouldn't give him bad advice, would he?

Besides, people liked him because he could always manage to turn a horrible situation around. Nothing seemed to faze him at all! He could tackle the worst news imaginable with a smile on his face and a lollipop for all involved-or at least, that's always how it felt to District Five.

"…and the male tribute for District Five is…"

Lorenzo held his breath.

"…Lorenzo Kayai!"

Lorenzo's heart dropped into his stomach. He staggered up to the platform. However, he still kept a smile on his face.

After all, things would be all right, wouldn't they?


	11. District FiveJune

June lived in a silent world.

It wasn't by her design, or anything anyone had wanted for her. June had been born deaf. However, even though her ears could not register sound, the people around her told her everything. She could read everyone's expressions clear as spoken words; clear as pure crystal.

They all pitied her, they did. They thought of her as a little puppy—cute, helpless and utterly worthless. Whenever this would come up in June's mind, all she could think was this: who could blame them, really? She couldn't go to school, she couldn't play a game, and she couldn't even answer a simple question yelled at the top of someone's lungs.

June pitied herself. She really was worth nothing to District Five, was she? She tried and tried to be worth something, but they would never think anything of her.

Why her? That was her only question, one that she sometimes cried herself to sleep over.

Why her? She certainly had done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve the torture her disability inflicted on her every day.

"_If I could only be like the others"_, she mused, "_things would be perfect"_. No one could ever give her those looks of sympathy, those heartbroken looks of deep twisted sorrow that bound her to her low place in this society.

No one truly understood her. June tried to be nice, so that maybe someone could, but things always failed in the end. She would forever be alone in her silent prison.

Even her own family never paid any attention to her. Oh, sure, they fed her and kept her safe, but they didn't do what really mattered.

They never fed her soul, so she was dying inside, rather than outside.

What was this? They were hauling her up to the platform? She didn't get this! What was going on?

Her mother was crying, and her father had turned away. She finally got it: she was leaving for the Hunger Games. Glancing around at the other people, she could see something that sickened her:

No one else was sad to see her go. She was one less useless mouth to feed. Survival of the fittest. Dog eat dog.

The weak ones never did matter, did they?


	12. District SixKlielr

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Klielr looked out at the crowd in District Six.

He was different then the rest of them, he knew that for sure. None of them knew what he had been through. None of them knew the pain he had experienced with Lilac. His stone heart sustained a twinge as he thought of her now:

* * *

"_Brothy?"_

"_Yes, Lils?"_

"_I hungy."_

"_Not now, sis. You know you can't ask for more or Mom and Dad will send you away."_

"_I hungy. Pwease?" Her vivid green eyes looked ready to shatter in a million pieces._

"_Fine, Lils. I'll find you something. But you have to be quiet. Shhh!"_

"_Shhhh!" Lilac giggled in delight. "Brothy gonna find some food!"_

"_Yeah, I'm going to get some food." Klielr smiled at his little sister and sneaked off to take something from the pantry._

* * *

Klielr sighed then. If only she had obeyed his orders…maybe then things would be different…

* * *

"_WHAT DID WE TELL YOU?!!!"_

Klielr jumped and turned around guiltily. His parents, with enraged and yet heartbroken expressions, were standing there holding Lilac "Whaddya mean?" he asked. "You know we can't spare more food. Otherwise, we won't have enough in winter. Lilac needs to survive on less. We all do." "Mom! You see her! You can count every one of her ribs! You need to feed her more!"

"Honey…" Klielr's mother had tears in her eyes. "I think it's time to send Lilac to the Community Home"

"_What!? No! Mom, you can't send Lils away! I need her! She needs me! You know that she won't eat if I don't feed her!"_

"_I'm sorry, Johnn."_

* * *

The awful thing was, Klielr knew it was coming. He knew that they couldn't support her. He knew that there wasn't enough to go around, and that someone had to leave.

However, it didn't matter to him—he thought blood ran thicker than stomach acids.

After Lilac was sent away, she left a hole in Klielr's heart: a hole that panged horribly when even remotely approached. He hated the grievers that stopped by his house every day, offering superficial apologies; they could never do anything that really mattered. He hated the Community Home; Lils' prison, the walls that kept them oceans apart.

Mostly, he hated his parents. They had the power to keep her; he could have just signed up for more tessarae and all would be right with the world. She was their child, no, they were her children, and they had effectively murdered both of them.

That was why Klielr felt no remorse after killing them both. They killed him and Lils; he was simply returning the favor. They deserved to die after what they had done.

Of course, Klielr was sneaky about it. It looked like suicide to any Peacekeepers that even bothered to show up, and soon the case was dropped.

The only clue he dropped, the only reminder he kept, was changing his name to Klielr: that's what he was, after all, a hidden killer.

Oh, he put on a great nice-guy façade-he was the one everyone went to for a kind word or a helping hand, but he was still a hidden killer.

"…and the male tribute for District Six is….Klielr Thrapp!"

Everyone looked horribly sad to see him go up to the platform. They were obviously thinking of the wasted of sacrificing this kind, helpful boy.

What they didn't know was that they were giving him a license to show his true colors.

**Author's **_**sister's **_**note:**

**Hola! As you may have noticed, my sister's production in chapters has slowed. Schoolwork and all, she doesn't have much time to work on them. And she procrastinates :P. But no fear! I am hired as her personal nagger. When ever she slows down, I come around to kick her into pace! But there is one way you can help: guilt replies! She hates those. Just send her a few and she will write promptly!**

**Happysmiley13.**


	13. District SixWisteria

If there was anything Wisteria had learned in her fourteen years it was this: the whole world was her stage.

Some people were other living, breathing players—these were the ones to love and fear. They were more common then one might believe, but still outnumbered horribly.

Others were only puppets—good for something you wanted done, but nothing unless you pulled the strings. It was always beneficial to learn how to manipulate these people, and Wisteria had become quite an adept puppeteer. She knew what the puppets wanted, needed even, and she was good at providing exactly that—friendship, companionship, even just a good listening ear.

They were all the same thing, though. One size fits all, generically bland.

It was much more fun to try manipulating the first kind of people, like her. You knew you were good at the art of manipulation if you could.

Thing is, you could also get attached to the first kind of people—which was a fatal mistake unless you didn't need to mess with them. Don't get her wrong—she liked people. Sometimes, though, they didn't know what was in their own best interest, and she could push them in the right direction. This was a good thing, wasn't it?

Some people, such as her sister, accused her of "playing God" with the puppets. She disagreed; she wasn't playing God, she was playing politics! After all, she needed to have a wide range of relationships and a few subordinates if she was going to survive in the real world; her sister was too much of an idealist.

Speaking of the devil, here she was now.

"Hello," she said icily.

"Hello," Wisteria replied.

"How are you?"

"Same as always, Kerrin." Wisteria flashed a small smile at her. "I'm surprised I'm not asleep on my feet right now, what with Chryshi's sleepover last night! Whew, that girl can PARTY!"

Kerrin was not impressed. "You should have gotten some sleep. You always need to look your best for the Reaping. Plus, I really don't think Chryshtine is a good influence on you."

"Chryshi's fine. All of my friends are great to me, Kerr. That's something you tend to look for when you have friends. Mother understands."

"You have _Mother _wrapped around your little finger. You think you can charm the whole world. I can't understand why people can't see you for what you are, you snake."

Unfortunately for Kerrin, she had hit a nerve.

"_What _did you just say to me, Kerrin Violet?"

"I said, you're a slithery, charm-oozing, smooth talking liar of a SNAKE who has blinded our mother."

Lindi stomped to Wisteria's side. "That's not true. Wisteria here is the best friend ever, you crotchety bat!"

Kerrin stomped off. Lindi turned to Kerrin. "I suppose we took care of her, huh?"

"Thanks, Lindi. I can always count on you!"

"Anytime, Wiss. Now, let's go wait where we can talk to everyone else."

Wisteria looked over to where about a dozen other girls where standing, panicking and gossiping…they were a fun bunch, but…she really didn't want to talk to them right now.

There was only one person she wanted to see.

"Wisteria, sweetie, are you okay?" Her mother's perpetually tired face smiled at her.

It was indeed true that she was very close to her mother, closer than Kerrin ever was. Wisteria had always clung to her after her father left. They were as close as any human beings could get.

* * *

"_Mommy?" Little Wisteria's face was peppered with freckles._

"_What, sweetie?"_

"_Ya know, if anyone tried to take you, I would say 'Leave my mommy alone!' and I would go instead! That's how much I love you!" Wisteria puffed out her chest proudly._

_Wisteria's mother looked worried. "No, sweetie, you shouldn't do that! I'm never going away, Wiss-Wiss._

_Wisteria hugged her mother. "Good, Mommy. Good."_

* * *

"…and the girl tribute for District Six is…Wisteria Kanopi!"

Wisteria could hear a collective gasp from the crowd. Being popular had its downside. She could see everyone's faces, even grumpy Kerrin's, as masks of horror. Most of all, she could see her mother trying not to have a meltdown in the middle of the Reaping.

_Don't worry, Mom. I'm coming back,_ she thought, determined.

_I suppose I'm just as bad as one of the puppets—I need you._


	14. District SevenCrisanto

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Crisanto scanned the crowd, looking for Clover, Mitchull, and the rest of the gang. He needed to find them soon—otherwise they would get ticked at him for not showing up for the traditional D7 exchange goodbye. Spotting them, he grinned widely and strode over, waving his leather bracelet token.

"Cris! There you are! I was starting to get worried!" Clover laughed. She wasn't serious, really. They knew if something were really wrong, he would have shown up EARLY rather than late.

"Cris, my man!" Mikall high-fived him, "You ready for the exchange? Toss that in the middle with the rest of the stuff." Crisanto complied. This was the most fun part of Reaping day for him and his group of friends—trading tokens to remember each other by, just in case one or two of them were the ones taken.

"Okay. Kassie, you're up first. Close your eyes and grab one, before I do it for you!" Crisanto teased. Everyone giggled, including Kassie. As soon as she had picked up her token—Micha's spider-web scrunchie—it was Crisanto's turn. He looked with wide eyes at the token he pulled.

"Ashelly, you didn't need to give up your medallion!"

Ashelly grinned. "I was hoping you would get it!"

Crisanto looked into her eyes. "Really?"

"You bet!"

Mikall and Mitchull started chanting softly: "Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her, kiss her…"

Crisanto gave Ashelly a peck on the cheek. Ashelly giggled and took her place in line for the pile.

"Aw, dude! It's the Reaping! Now or never, right?" Mikall said unhappily.

"We don't know that, really. And it's not like I need to force anything."

"Suit yourself, but she's into you. Even we can see that!" Mitchull punched him on the arm.

"That's a first."

All three boys laughed. "What about you guys?"

"See, Cris, unlike you, we prefer the single life. That way, we can flirt with whomever we want, and we won't have some mad chick breathing down our necks!" Mikall winked at a pack of girls. "Yeah, ladies, we're hot and single!"

Cris rolled his eyes. "If you were half the chick magnets you think you are, every girl in Panem would be stuck to you."

"You're just jealous of our awesome skills!"

"What, like the ability to squeeze twenty dirty jokes in one conversation?"

Mitchull smirked. "Actually, I broke the record talking to Jef. It's now 26 dirty jokes in one conversation."

"Dude, I was listening in on that, and it wasn't even close to 20!" Mikall retorted.

"Whatever. But remember: Denial—it's not just the hardware store uptown."

"It's spelled 'Da Nail, genius!"

"Yo momma!"

Cris rolled his eyes. If they were going to start this again…

"…and the male tribute from District 7 is…"

The crowd froze.

"…Crisanto Ryzan!"

Horror flooded Crisanto as he walked up to the platform. When he turned around, he could see Mitchull with his jaw to the floor, and Ashelly in tears.

_"Dude," _Mikall mouthed. "_Oh. No. Dude." _


	15. District SevenViolenta

**Disclaimer-I don't own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Violenta looked out at the giggling crowd of friends.

_Stupid shallow idiots. They know nothing of life, really. _She then sighed and looked down at her hands.

_Grandmother, I wish you were here. _

Her grandma had raised her since she was small, because her mother was dead and her father was on parole. Of course, Grandmother had gotten old, and one morning…No, she wasn't going to think about that. After her father had the all clear, she had to live with him…and that was no picnic.

"Heya! Woah, girl, is that a bruise?" Anny sidled up to her. For some reason, the annoying prat always wanted to hang around. Violenta didn't like most people, but Anny was on a whole different plane. She was in Violenta's grade, but acted like a first-grader.

"No, it's a beauty mark," Violenta said with biting sarcasam, "And if you don't scram, I'll give you one just like it!"

"Really? You would? It's really…Goth…of you! Just like you!" Apparently the sarcasm had gone unnoticed.

"If I'm a Goth, you're a chicken."

"Oh, you silly thing!"

"…"

"What's wrong, Vio?"

"Ya know, Anny, I just love that nickname. Really, I couldn't live without it!" More sarcasm was hurled at the clueless redhead.

"Wow! Thanks!"

_Man,_ Violenta thought, _Anny is so stupid._

_ Maybe if I sent her to live with my father for a few days, she would stop bothering me._

Violenta's father was, in short, a menace. Every day, he would go to the bar. Sometimes, when she was lucky, he passed out and stayed at the bar until he was sobered up. When she was unlucky, he managed to wander his way home and complained loudly when dinner wasn't on the table—and the complaining would eventually result in a beating.

Hence, the bruise.

That's why she stayed at school, or even better, at the old defunct diner at the other side of town, as much as possible. Anny wouldn't understand that. No one ever would.

Once her father had broken her arm, sending her to the hospital. She had lied and told the medics that she had tripped down the stairs. Her life may have been horrible, but at least it was constant. She really didn't want to take her chances in a Community Home. Even though the most outlandish things that were said to go on in there were probably fabrications, she mused, the Community Home kids were a sorry bunch of bullies, and she wouldn't be able to get out of this situation unless she could stand apart from the others.

"…and the female tribute for District 7 is…Violenta Turin!"

Anny burst out screaming. "Wahhhhh! I don't want you to go!"

It took three peacekeepers to pull Anny off Violenta's leg.

_Well, goodbye,_ she thought. _Not that any of you care._

_Maybe I can make something of this road trip—like busting my father on live T.V.!_


	16. District EightLucca

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games and anything created in the series. Please don't sue!**

Lucca hid in the back of the crowd.

It's not that he was afraid of people—people were okay. They just had a way of crowding him when he needed space. Well, most of them, anyway. He took out the crumpled letter:

_Dear Lucca,_

_ College rocks out! Studying really paid off, you know. Most of the other kids are native to the Capitol and think I sound really funny, but when I remember what you thought of their accent I'm able to handle it._

_ The food is awesome, almost better than Mom's chicken—but not quite. Do you still get chicken sometimes? I hope so. Thinks were looking down when I left home._

_ Listen, little bro. When you get out of school, you should move in with me! You'd love it here—well, maybe you wouldn't love my nosy neighbor who can't mind her own darn business, but you'd get used to her after a while. The entertainment is great, and there are always opportunities for true artists like you. You could get famous…and I really miss you, tiger._

_ Your brother,_

Antonyio

_P.S. Here's a little present. I know you wanted one of these!_

Lucca smiled and placed the letter back in his pocket. He brushed the silver stud in his ear that had come with the letter. He did really miss Tonyio. Toniyo had been the only person who had ever really "gotten" Lucca. No one else thought that Lucca should be an artist. Other people would usually say something along the lines of this:

"_You have the talent, but you'd starve to death."_

"_Why chance it? Go for something more practical."_

"_Really, art is cool, but it won't put bread on the table."_

It was Toniyo who kept pushing him on.

Lucca's favorite self-made painting was one he called 'A Noble Death'. It was a picture from the 73rd Hunger Games, in which the girl from District 5 saved her district partner—and sacrificed her own life in the process. It was slightly gory, but that was to be an occupational hazard if your subject was the Hunger Games.

In fact, most of Lucca's favorite self-made works were Hunger Games portraits. He loved the "Converging Careers" from the 72nd Hunger Games, and "Unpleasant Surprise"—another one from the 73rd.

The most recent Hunger Games had given him loads of material, from "Volunteer" to "On the Cornucopia". He had always wanted to thank Katniss for the inspiration she had lent him---not to mention that even starving, thirsty, and crazed, she was easy on the eyes. Peeta had made it into a few portraits, but…it was hard for him to paint what should have been the best moments: Peeta and Katniss in the cave, Katniss screeching for Peeta after the Games…and the list went on.

Why, oh why, did he always have to crush on the girls who were totally unattainable?

That was another thing: Toniyo was the one who had taught him everything he knew about girls—including the fact that if a girl is way out of your league, the best thing you can do is move on.

"…and the male tribute from District 8 is…Lucca Torres!"

Lucca walked up to the platform slowly, his thoughts in a rush.

_My God, what if I never see Tonyio again?"_


	17. District EightKiera

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Kiera sat in a tree, looking out over the crowd. No one tried to bother her—she had no real enemies, and it wasn't like she was in anyone's way.

"Penny for your thoughts, Lady Bird?"

Kiera looked down to see a brunet boy with a goofy grin looking up at her. She decided to take him up on his game. It certainly wouldn't hurt.

"Oh, I'm sure they're worth much more than a penny, Russ," She flashed a small smile back at him. Russ was an old childhood friend. He was always ready for a verbal spar, but he never meant to offend anyone.

"Are you trying to make money off of me, Kiera?" He was obviously trying not to laugh.

"Maybe I am. So, how's the fam?"

"Just wonderful. Marni's teething. And by the way, nice rhyme. How are your mom and sister?"

Kiera's face darkened. "My sister's same as always. My mother…I have no way of knowing, considering she's in a better place."

"Oh, wait…sorry. I didn't mean…you know…I forgot. Sorry." Russ blushed and looked toward the ground.

"I believe you, Russ." Kiera stared out into the distance.

Her mother had passed just the week before. Russ may be friendly, but he was forgetful and not the sharpest tool in the shed. It was just like him to forget something like this.

For Leia, her sister, "same as always" meant, "paraplegic and ill." No one knew exactly what had happened to her. All anyone had known was that one day a neighbor had carried her comatose body back to Kiera and her mother. She had woken up with heroic action from the district paramedic, but she would never be able to walk again. It had been horrible beyond words for the entire family.

It only got worse when Kiera found the newsletter.

* * *

_Ten year old Kiera crept into her sister's room. _

_ "Leia, where are you? I think you have my backpack."_

_ Kiera shouldn't have done what she did next, but the pull was irresistible._

_ There was a white sheet of paper just begging to be read poking out from behind Leia's chest of things._

_ She won't mind, Kiera told herself. She never minds when I go through her things. Even then, the reassurances rang hollow._

_ Kiera opened the piece of paper and gasped._

_**The D-8 Chatterbox:**_

_** Today's Article: To Rebel or Not to Rebel.**_

_** By Leia Triance.**_

_ The date was the day before she had been physically compromised._

_ Kiera sat down and wept, not being able to read any more of the paper._

* * *

"…And the female District Eight tribute is…Leia Triance!"

People gasped loudly. _They have no idea, _Kiera thought.

_You couldn't finish her off the first time, so now you want to complete the job, eh, President Snow? Well, I've got news for you!_

"I volunteer." Kiera said. She knew she had to protect her sister.

Maybe it would send those Capitol creeps a message.


	18. District NineElan

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

K'Torian looked out over the crowd.

_Silly humans, _he thought. _They know nothing of true living. _

The boy, Elan, needed to be here. K'Torian had no idea why. Back on Highnoone they never observed such customs. Several times, he had tried to cut this gathering to have peace, but the boy's parents had caught him and brought him back.

It never would do to disobey the boy's parents. K'Torian could even remember a parent-teacher conference about _him_, of all beings.

* * *

"Iris? Tykler? I've called you here about your son," The teacher looked rather nervously at Elan's parents.

"Yes, yes. Did he break a mirror? With his face, I mean. I bet it could shatter glass. That's why we never keep mirrors in his room," Iris looked at the teacher disinterestedly and placed her feet on the table.

K'Torian was outraged. That boy had more potential in one hair then the rest of their family had put together!

"No, no, nothing like that!" The teacher looked taken aback. "You see, I'm concerned about Elan." She turned to Elan. "Elan, can you tell me who your best teacher is?"

Elan looked at her over the tops of his glasses. "K'Torian. He's of Highnoon Province, on Mercury. That's in the sky, you know. He's been teaching me all sorts of things!"

The teacher turned back to his parents. "See? That's all he ever talks about. K'Torian. He doesn't have any friends to speak of, just his little imaginary friend.

Elan looked disgruntled. "He's not imaginary! You just can't see him because he has an invisibility shield!"

Iris and Tykler laughed. "So, you're not only ugly, you're insane, too!"

Elan broke down in tears.

* * *

It was true, K'Torian knew, that Elan was quite ugly to humans, but what he couldn't understand was why this mattered. Sure, he would never make it as a terr-kii—what humans referred to as a model—but he had an extremely high I.Q. and would be a wonderful—well, almost anything intellectual. The boy was learning quickly, much faster than a normal beef-headed teenage boy, yet the world treated the dumb better than the ugly. Why was that, when the intelligent were the keepers of the world's future? It's not like many of the sports fanatics of the dumb variety would ever be anything better than ditch-diggers!

K.T., I can hear you. You don't have to be angry for me. I can take care of myself, Elan interjected into his mentor's reverie.

K'Torian, feeling embarrassed, was quiet.

"…and the male tribute for District 9 is… Elan Parryson!"

Oh, no. K'Torian? Elan thought.

What, boy? Elan only called K'Torian by his full name when something was wrong.

You and me are in a whole butt-load of trouble.


	19. District NineRosie

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue! I also don't own whichever book/play coined the phrase, "Something wicked this way comes."**

Rosie looked around the crumbly building.

"Everything is go," she whispered urgently into an old walkie-talkie. "Team Bio can mobilize."

A pair of dark-skinned girls rounded a corner and spotted her. "What about us, Leader Cloud?"

"I want you to conduct recon on the other side of the plaza. We need to know as much as possible about this…new development."

The girls paused. Rosie sighed. Leading the Bedlam Force was sometimes quite a bit of work. Elysium, Violet, Terra, and Taolin were a fun gang, but they were only teenage girls and couldn't be expected to understand what it was like to have family problems. The Bedlam Force generally mobilized to "keep some chaos in life", but it was only to keep a balance to things.

Right now, balance was a far off concept in Rosie's life.

* * *

_ Rosie knew something was wrong when she saw __her_ _holding her brother's hand._

_ She looked perfect in every way, right down to the saccharine smile on her face, but all Rosie could see was the evil in her ice-blue eyes. No, no, no! _

_ "Rosie, meet Katty. Katty-dear, this is Rosie, my younger sister. I'm sure you'll get along wonderfully!" He turned to Katty and kissed her full on the lips. Rosie flinched._

_ Katty continued to sneer at her from behind her perfect expression. "Ah, yes. I'm sure she's just __wonderful__, dear."_

_ Brann apparently didn't pick up the sarcasm in Katty's voice. A relieved expression bloomed on his face. "Rosie…I…came home so that…you and our parental units can approve my choice. She's…my fiancé."_

_ Rosie nearly cursed right there. Couldn't he see that she was an evil hag?_

_ As soon as Brann left, Katty's behavior changed entirely._

_ "Listen, kid, I don't care how close you are, when I marry him, no one gets between us, and that means YOU!"_

_ All right, you hag, be that way, Rosie thought. _

_ I'll have my sweet, sweet revenge eventually._

* * *

Tao was the one who broke this silence. "Hello? Earth to Miss Cloud?"

Rosie shook herself. "Recon time. I'm waiting here for Team Bio."

Terra saluted her. "Team Gemini is moving out!"

Rosie rewarded her with a bemused smile. These guys were horribly fun. Her little Bedlam Force had existed as far back as she could remember, even when four out of the five of them had been in diapers (Well, Elysium hadn't been, but then Elysium had an I.Q. of 190—she was expected to do everything first.)

That was about when she heard the cold laughter. She froze.

Tao lowered her voice to a whisper. "Something wicked this way comes.

"Oh, look, are those your little dorky friends?" Elysium and Violet showed up just then, and immediately started sneering at Katty. "Elysinerd, Violent, and the Twin Stupids." Elysium's eyes welled up with tears.

"Stop insulting my friends, moron."

"…and the female tribute for District 9 is…Terra Mace!"

That was about when both Terra and Tao began to scream. It took two Peacekeepers to pull them apart.

Rosie couldn't take it anymore. If Terra died, Tao would probably kill herself!

There was only one thing to do.

"I volunteer."

**Authors **_**sisters **_**note:**

** Hello, ****hola, whatever greeting there is. Yes, she is back. See, the personal (coughnaggercough) reminder (that's me!) decided to take a very loooooong vacation. To my surprise, I checked in to see how much my sister updated, and she didn't! At all! I got right back to work. Forgive me! Sniffle… Anyway, here's to the Hunger Games! May the odds ever be in your favor! (Did that sound cheesy?) **


	20. District TenTerun

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Terun gazed about suspiciously as his brother darted up to him, huffing and puffing.

"Sorry, bro. I just needed to make sure Kase-Kase was back in the shed."

Terun looked slightly interested. "Did she give you any trouble?"

"Some, I suppose, but she can't do anything I can't handle."

Terun nodded. "And the rest of our menagerie?"

"All safely away, Captain!" His brother started to laugh. Terun noticed that the cap his brother always wore was positioned at a rakish angle on his head. It may not have been much to irritate someone, but the detail began to drive Terun crazy. Finally, he snapped.

"You know, Katchison, you need to wear that hat right. Our father would have wanted you to." Katchison instantly drooped. Terun backed off. Darn those anger issues! "No, he wouldn't be angry. It just looks better when it's worn correctly."

Terun was the one out of the pair of them that could remember their parents, even though Katchison was his twin. Not that it was Katchison's fault at all, really. No one had seen the virus coming.

* * *

"_Brother?" Katchison was trembling with chills._

"_What, Katchi?" Even though Terun was the older of the pair of boys, he was still only four. He had no idea why his parents hadn't woken up two days ago. He had no idea why his twin brother was slowly failing. Most of all, he had no idea what to do next._

"_I—hurt. I hurt bad, Rune. What's going on?"_

_Terun's lower lip trembled. "I—I—I don't know, Katchi."_

_A woman heard the sniffling boys in the makeshift hut. _

"_Hello?" she said, cautiously. Spotting the twins, she darted up to them. "Hi there," she said softly. "Where are your mummy and daddy?"_

_Terun was silent for a while. Then, he spoke. "They're taking a very long nap. They haven't been awake for two days!" He looked at the woman. "Can you wake them up?" Hope glimmered in his gaze._

_The woman looked at him with the saddest eyes. "I'm afraid I can't, sweetie," she spoke softly, "But I can bring you home! Would you like that?"_

_Terun started to howl. Katchison, however, smiled at her with glazed eyes. "Yeah…" he said; then, he fell victim to sleep's irresistible pull and said no more._

* * *

It had been almost too late for Katchison. Even with the medicine at the Community Home, he had been on the brink of death for several days. Even after he had gotten better, he remembered nothing that he had experienced before the fever but his name and his brother.

That was how the menagerie had gotten started. Katchison had wanted to learn about animals, so the boys had taken to keeping a collection of them in an old warehouse. What had begun with a mangy dog that the boys had met on the street turned into a sizeable group, including 5 dogs, 14 cats, 2 goats, and many others, including a turkey that Katchison had named Kase-Kase. Katchison would probably protect most of the animals with his life, which Terun found annoying but strangely endearing.

"…and the male tribute for District 10 is… Terun Masoon!"

The last thing Terun said before he walked up to the platform was: "Katchi, take care of the gang for me."

That was about when Katchison sent up a wail. 


	21. District TenNara

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Nara scanned the skies for thunderstorms. Old Kasey had predicted a real howler today, and however crazy she was about anything and everything else, she usually got the weather uncannily on target. If there were a howler, Nara would have to shepherd every last child that belonged to her family into a shop. And what a family! Brothers, sisters, black babies, white babies, skinny kids, chubby kids, and many other polar opposite children were part of Nara's big, messy clan. Unfortunately, this meant hand-me-downs two sizes two big for most of the children, and Nara rarely, if ever, got presents on her birthday or brand new toys. Even her journal had already been written in!

Nara didn't care, though. It didn't matter if she got sweets or new shoes. All that was unimportant compared to the new lives of all of her adopted brothers and sisters. They had been through very tough lives, and they deserved to have a little tender, loving care.

"Sissi?" Dark eyes peered up at Nara from a dark-brown face.

"Yes, Malisse?" Nara smiled in delight at her younger sister.

"Why don't you ever cut your hair or have Mom cut it?"

"What do you mean, sweetie?" Nara saw genuine worry in Malisse's gaze.

"You have time to do my hair up really pretty. You sit with the hairbrush for hours! But you can't ask Mommy to give you a haircut for five minutes. Why is that, sissi?"

Nara blinked. "Oh, is that what you're worried about? I just shouldn't bother our mother. She's a very busy woman, you know. She and Dad have a family of fourteen to feed."

Melisse looked unconvinced. "You look pretty with your hair done up. You should do it up every day," Her lip was sticking out in typical four-year-old fashion. Nara sighed.

"I'm just fine," she said, "You don't have to worry about little old me. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

Melisse walked away. It _still _didn't look like she was convinced, though. Her general adoration of her older sister confused Nara. What did she ever do to deserve an advocate? She just did whatever any normal person would do if they were in her situation. It even went beyond her sister. Sometimes people would call her an angel if they saw her with the enormous mass of children, but Nara didn't agree. The kids…they just deserved to _live _more than Nara ever could. Why deny the real angels the things they very well deserved?

After all, living in a Home for any stint of time had to have been rough. Most of the children had been hopeless shells when they had arrived. People seemed surprised when they saw them behaving…well…like normal children. It was no biggie, though. All they needed were the comforts of home and a gentle, loving environment.

" …and the female tribute for District 10 is…Nara Suramat!"

Nara's heart sank.

Whatever would the children do without her?

That was about when she reminded herself that she was going to be one less mouth to feed, and walked up to the platform.


	22. District ElevenHeucheras

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Heucheras darted behind a stall.

_Bucket, check. Dirt, check. Now, I need the water,_ he thought. _Where do I get that without being seen by the adults? _

His eyes flicked across the square. It was teeming with people. Mainly, though, he was looking at the Reaping pens filled with children. Perfect. It was a hot day, and they were bound to have water _somewhere. _He sidled up to one pen and got his best "I am a cute little kid—give me what I want" face. "Hey—ya. Do you have any water?"

The girl was strangely red-faced. "No, I don't have any water. You could check the grocer's."

Heucheras was only fazed for second. "Okay! I'll check with the grocer's, then. Thank you!" _So, _he thought, _to the grocer's! _He blew in through the door of the aforementioned shop. The man behind the counter seemed surprised to see him. No matter. "Excuse me, mister," Heucheras said in his shyest, most heart-melting voice, "Could you spare some water. I'm really thirsty!"

The man smiled. "Of course, son. Here you go. Oh, and I'm sorry about your mother, by the way. Thank God you boys have your brother."

Heucheras nodded. "I miss her." He turned and left the shop.

His mother, the last of his parents, had just been dispatched, having fallen out of a tree and sustaining serious injury. It was a blessing that many of the boys could work. Heucheras' eldest brother was eighteen, and had taken so many tessarae it wasn't funny. It was common knowledge that he was to be the male tribute; that he may as well have volunteered himself.

Heucheras had refused to believe this, but even Ren himself knew it.

* * *

" _Lil' dude?" Ren looked horribly sad. Heucheras couldn't imagine why, the bullish optimist._

"_What, Renny?"_

"_Lil' dude…you and I both know that I'm the one who's going to be pulled from the Reaping. I've signed up for so many tessarae that I'm just going to say my goodbye to you right now, okay? I don't want to wake the little ones. Don't say anything about this to them. Take care of the other 8 of us, okay?"_

"_What?" Heucheras was aghast. "No! No! No! I'll even volunteer for you. You. Can't. Go! We need you, brother. We need you!_

_Ren kneeled so that he could look directly into his brother's eyes. "Lil' dude, I need to do this. You know very well that Tarran could have died if he didn't get food as fast as he did. You'll have food for the rest of the year. I did this so you guys could live," Ren started to sob. "I love you all. I love you. That's why I need you to live."_

_Heucheras was speechless._

* * *

After that, Heucheras knew what he needed to do.

It didn't matter that he was really only ten.

It didn't matter that he would probably end up dead.

Ren was worth more to the family, so he did it anyway.

Rigging the Reaping so that he was pulled was the only solution. Ren would learn to understand later.

A kamikaze mission, however, didn't mean that this occasion was going to be completely solemn. Heucheras had a little…surprise…for the spokesperson. He fixed it up, and then hopped up into a tree near the stage to wait.

"…And the male tribute for District 11 is…Heucheras Comafrat!"

Heucheras hopped out of the tree. "RAHHHHHHH!" He tossed the bucket of mud on the spokesperson, who promptly started squealing and hopping up and down in a panic.

District Eleven was shocked. They knew his true age. None of them would move to help him, though.

Ren looked too shocked to move a muscle—otherwise, he would have volunteered. However, just in case, Heucheras added something:

"…And don't you volunteer, Brother, cause you can't!!!"


	23. District ElevenThistle

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Thistle looked innocently at the short, scrappy boy on the other side of the rope.

"No, I don't have any water with me. I'm sure there's some at the grocer's," she said quietly.

What the boy wasn't seeing was that inwardly Thistle was trying not to faint. Heucheras looked so boyish, but to have so many younger brothers made it certain that he was much older than Thistle. She was lucky, she thought, that she only had five siblings to take care of! Even then, she had her mother to help, and this boy didn't! This boy was so noble, so strong, so…manly! He was the boy of her dreams!

This was the first time he had ever spoken to her.

"All right, then. I'll check the grocer's for the water. Thanks a lot!" The boy scurried off.

_He looks adorable when he smiles, _Thistle thought.

Suddenly, she felt a soft tug on her skirt. "Sissy?" Liquid-centered brown eyes peered up at her. "Tie my hair."

"Ivy, you're not supposed to be here. This place is for the big kids, okay? Kids are safer outside here!" _God, to be younger than twelve, _Thistle thought. _Then, I wouldn't have to worry about what would happen to my family if I were taken away. If you're in here, you're in a deadly lottery. If you're here, there's a one in a million chance that this day will be your last in your home district. Oh God, please let me stay here with my family. Please! _

"Sissy? Tie—my—hair. Now. Pwetty please?" Ivy gave her older sister a puppy-dog face; then, she turned so that her sister had better access to her long, black locks.

Thistle sighed. "Okay, Ivy," She then removed a red ribbon from her pocket and proceeded to tie a bow. Ivy sighed, now satisfied.

"Now I pretty! Pretty! Pretty!" Ivy danced happily.

_Yup, that's Ivy, _Thistle thought. _Always the little fashionista. _

It was a pity that they could never afford new clothes. They could only afford enough clothes to stay clothed. Ivy wanted to learn to sew so badly, but needles scared the bajeezus out of her.

Thistle sometimes wished they could afford new things. It was humiliating to wear shoes with no soles.

"…and the male tribute for District Eleven is…Heucheras Comafrat!"

Thistle choked. Oh, no, no, no! This wasn't supposed to happen! They were supposed to have a wonderful life together. This was bad, bad, bad!

That was about when Heucheras himself jumped out of a tree and covered the spokesperson in mud. She started hopping about in a blind panic.

Thistle laughed. Everyone knew that this particular lady, Francie Gale, was particular about her appearance. A speck of dirt could cause her to curse.

A bucket of mud? That was a nervous breakdown right there. Francie hurriedly reached into the girl's Reaping ball.

"…and the female tribute for District Eleven is…Thistle Nonaudi!"

The bottom dropped out on Thistle's world.

Life was cruel, wasn't it? 


	24. District TwelveEiken

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

_The outside is a suckish place to be._

_ Especially if there's a party on the inside._

Eiken gazed out at the crowd. _It would be wonderful to actually have a connection here,_ he thought. _Then, maybe I wouldn't have to be so alone. _People didn't think Eiken was alone at all, Eiken supposed; they only saw his nice-guy façade. Ever since his parents had died, everyone assumed that he had been living in the Community Home—and they marveled at how unscathed he was by the harsh atmosphere.

_"Thanks, Eiken. You're a gem!"_

_ "That's wonderful, buddy!"_

_ "How do you even live in that wretched place?" _

However, they all thought wrong. Eiken would never live in such a place. He had been living on his own ever since the accident.

That when he had started his book of poems.

_ If I had huge wings,_

_ This pit would be history!_

_ Not this place, this life._

It's not that Eiken hated living in District Twelve. On the contrary, he loved the place. What he hated were the stupid Capitol freaks that wouldn't pay for simple security measures in Twelve, while they themselves threw diamonds in the trash. Imagine!

If they had simply been kinder to their satellites, there would be much fewer deaths in District Twelve.

Katniss Everdeen was only the tip of the iceberg.

_I cry,_

_ Not for the known, the victims of Games._

But for the victims of games, the ones that bureaucrats play, with faceless chess pieces.

_ But the faceless have a voice, a voice that is stifled._

_ Cry out, Twelve. Be heard! _

_ The meek may inherit the earth—but they won't claim it from the jaws of the corrupt._

The Capitol would pay for the deaths of his parents—Eiken would make sure of that. All the proletariat would smash the Capitol under the guidance of a leader. Not him…that was for certain. There would be someone, though. And when they arrived, they would create their own, democratic, government. It might not always be fair, but everyone would get a fair shot. Capitalism may be imperfect, but it was certainly better than this authoritarianism.

His comrades thought they knew him. Eiken was really a nice guy at heart—but he needed to be strong. Eiken was such a bleeding heart. In a way, they were right—Eiken had his home's best interests at heart. However, he wasn't exactly pure, either.

Eiken was a guy with an ax to grind.

"…and the male tribute for District Twelve is…Cario Nori!"

From history I know one thing

_Change cannot come without martyrs._

Eiken cleared his throat. "I volunteer."


	25. District TwelveAimee

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Aimee looked around anxiously.

_Good, _she thought. _No more of that nasty pack of boys._ R'tuuro and his gang had always been hounding after her for as long as she could remember—even when they all had been in diapers.

If anything, it had only gotten worse after her father died. That was about the point when 'pee-wee' and 'tracker-jacker food' had become 'turncoat' and 'nasty little-' No. She wasn't even going to gratify that rude insult with a thought.

It was only because she was different, really.

"_Your turn, Aimee. What do you want to be when you grow up?" The classroom was brightly lit. Thirty other little faces were peering curiously at her, and the teacher was smiling kindly. Most of the other children had said they were going to be miners, mainly because they couldn't think of anything else. There were a few who had talked about shop keeping. One little boy—K'thon--had said he had wanted to become a priest of this strange cult that had cropped up in the Seam. Of course, he had followed this with a rakish smile, and the entire class had laughed._

_Aimee wasn't going to do any of that. Why be a worker bee when you can aim higher?_

"_I'm gonna be Pwesident," she said. _

_The teacher winked. "Oh, you mean Mayor, don't you?"_

_ Aimee stared at her blankly. "No, I mean Pwesident. Like Snow. I will do a gooder job than he is doing. I will be gweat!" She nodded emphatically, as if to prove her point._

_ The room fell silent._

No one appreciated a person from Twelve who could set their sights higher than the mines—not even the others from that district. If that person was a girl on top of that…people had no idea how nasty other people could be. Even the downtrodden enforced their position at the bottom. Panem ran on order. Shatter that order…and…well, who knows what could happen?

Aimee could do a better job ruling Panem than anyone before her. She knew she could. She would be fair, and she would listen. The Hunger Games would cease to exist.

All she needed was a mechanism to get to the top, and she could change Panem forever. The Hunger Games was that mechanism.

What she figured to do was get into the Games, be a charmer on camera, win (the hard part), and stage a coup d'état. The population of the Capitol loved their tributes. If she could win everyone's support, there would be fanatics who would follow "their" tribute to the ends of the earth. They would be her loyal army. If she could also get people from the districts to help…they could overrun the Capitol easily. That was why publicly, she had stopped her dreams of power and had assumed a "mousy" personality. No one in Twelve could resist a young, soft-spoken, pure child.

That's what she was counting on. Katniss Everdeen was loved because she triumphed in the face of adversity. Perhaps she could provoke someone off camera—and make it look like she had never done anything wrong when they attacked. People were suckers like that. They would root for her…they always had.

"…and the female Tribute from District Twelve is…Petunia Gladestem!"

Aimee cleared her throat. This moment was on camera, so she had to make it dramatic. "I…volunteer!" She made sure to say it with strength. She had to be cute, but not vulnerable.

Surprised faces turned to her.

_Step one, complete._

**Well, on that note, Phase One…complete! Wow, it's been a year! Next up are the goodbyes. I'm squeezing that into one chapter because…let's face it…do we really want to go through all 24 again?**

**Cheers,**

**JF450. **


	26. Goodbyes, Farewells, and Sayanoras

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Cronus was holding back tears. "Rosie, Rosie, I never meant for this to happen."

Rosie had given up on holding back tears a long time ago. "Promise me…" she squeaked. Cronus looked into her baby-blue, shimmering eyes. At that moment, he knew that he would do anything for her. "Promise you what, darling? Say it, and I'll see it through."

Rosie buried her head in his chest. "Promise me you'll come back."

That was about when Cronus lost it.

Star was Irina's first visitor—Irina could hear her even before she could see her. "Omigod, OMIGOD! Let me in to see my friend, you stinky guard!" When Star got in the room, Irina found herself being embraced by waterfalls of tears. Irina was actually a little disgusted at this display, but not because it was overly emotional.

She could see the look on Star's face. She figured that Irina was a bloodbath kill just because she was blonde.

_Guess what, friend?_ Irina thought. _You're going to see me again._

_And I'm not going to be in a casket, either._

There was a long line outside the room to see Brielle, all of them fanboys. Brielle sighed and pulled out a tube of lipstick.

After all, what was a goodbye without some little presents?

That would show the other girls that she was still queen.

The entire young female population of District Two was waiting outside Zuran's door.

Zuran, though was busy thinking, yes, thinking, about someone else.

_We belong together. She's hot. I'm hot. We'll have hot children. _

_And that slap? It means she secretly digs me, 'cause I am HOT! Who doesn't dig me?_

Jarrah's friends crowded around him. He didn't really want to see any of them, though.

There was only one person he wanted to see.

_Iris, help me. Help me get home alive. You may not have, but please, tell God to keep me alive._

_ I don't think Mom will make it if I die._

Aka was currently involved in a huge group hug. Her mother, father, and brother crowded in around her.

Aka knew that the odds were against her, so she better make these goodbyes count.

"Terrone, please live for the both of us."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, big bro. See everything for me. Live your life to the fullest. Don't let it hold you down if anything happens to me. I want you to be happy, brother."

Terrone broke down in tears.

Crade's father came up to him. He held out his hand. Crade looked at it in surprise. His father raised an eyebrow. "Well, go on, son, take it!" Crade smiled as his father shook his hand.

"Thank you, father."

Crade's father broke his handshake. "Now, kill some wimps for me, okay? Do me proud, son!"

Crade cracked his knuckles with a wicked grin. "With pleasure, father."

Savannah gazed at the door. She knew no one would come for her. Her parents didn't even know her after the training. And her trainers? They weren't her friends—never had been, never would be. Besides, she never knew one long enough to even try to become friends.

_I guess this is their lesson of all lessons, _Savannah thought.

_Everything I do in these Games, I must do alone._

Lorenzo tried to laugh.

_It doesn't matter that no one's coming to say goodbye, does it? They're probably just shocked! They…they…like me! Someone will come, someone will come…please, someone, come…_

Lorenzo broke down sobbing.

June looked around, wide-eyed. This was a beautiful place! The couch was softer than the overstuffed cushions at home. The colors were calming—dark crimson and brown. She could even see the sun shining outside!

Why didn't she want to be here, then?

Something was wrong with this place. Something bad.

Kleilr closed his eyes. He supposed he could do quite well in these Games. He had learned that he had quite a talent for killing. These people…they weren't people. They were just useless puppets.

_You didn't mourn my sister._ Kleilr opened his eyes and smiled wickedly.

_Now you will pay, Panem. Who will cry for your children? I will remind you exactly what the Capitol thinks of you and your stupid progeny._

Wisteria hugged Kerrin. "I love you, Kerrin. I'm just sorry I didn't say it earlier.

Kerrin just sobbed. "I'm sorry, sorry, sorry! I didn't…ah…" Kerrin sniffed and cried some more.

To her own surprise, Wisteria felt herself tearing up.

_I suppose even the puppeteer cries for her toys._

_ That's the problem with people—you can't completely detach yourself._

Crisanto gazed into Ashelley's eyes.

He'd never realized how beautiful they were.

Ashelley whimpered, "There's so much I want to say…"

Crisanto pulled her close. "You don't have to explain anything," He then kissed her, trying to squeeze a whole lifetime of love into one moment.

After all, Mikall had summed it up: it was now or never, right?

Violenta frowned when she heard the noise.

_That can only be one person, and it isn't a ghost, either._

"Vio…" That was as far as Anny got before bursting into tears. Violenta found herself in a crushing bear hug.

_Well, I suppose she IS my only visitor…_ Vio thought.

_I may as well give the little airhead a proper goodbye._

Lucca knew it was a lost cause. His wish wouldn't come true.

He wouldn't see his brother come in through that door.

Wait…maybe his brother would be watching the parade or at the interviews! That cheered Lucca up slightly.

_So I will get a final goodbye. Maybe I'll see Katniss, too!_

Lucca smiled weakly. Maybe he could enjoy his first—and sadly, last-trip to the Capitol, after all.

Leia was wheeled in. It had taken quite a long time, even with the elevator. The government building wasn't exactly wheelchair-accessible. She looked slightly cross—and very sad.

"Keira, you should have let me do it. You and I both know you're more use to the community than I am…"

"Nonsense! You have your sewing business!" Keira had to make her sister believe that she was doing this only because she genuinely believed that Leia was of more use alive than she was. While that was true to Keira—Leia could make clothes out of anything!-the underground incident that had landed Leia in a wheelchair was more than a small part of the decision.

_Sorry, sis,_ Keira thought. _You'll understand later._

_Why are we here, Elan-ki?_ K'Torian was unsure of himself.

Elan sounded edgy, as if not sure what to tell his friend. _K.T…. um…do you ever observe ritual sacrifice in Highnoone?_

_Well, we __do__ have to give a portion of our crops to the government for the welfare…_

_That's not what I mean, K.T.. Do you ever have to kill a living thing? I mean, have to kill say, a yurin by decree of the government?_

_We are not even meant to kill animals! How revolting! _K'Torian sounded shocked.

_Ah…I'm afraid it gets worse than animals in Panem._

That's about when K'Torian started catching on. _No…_

_Yes, _Elan thought grimly. _Yes._

The Bedlam Force crowded around Rosie. "Come now," Rosie said, though crying herself, "let's not cry.

Elysium was the one who thought of it first. "Let's say the pledge," she whispered, "as a send-off to Leader Cloud." The others looked at her like she was crazy—at first. Then, one by one they nodded and started to recite it:

"When trouble needs to happen,

For time to run its course,

We decide we need to help,

We are the Bedlam Force!"

Then, the pledge circle turned into a soggy group hug.

Katchison could be so moronic sometimes.

What in District 13 could make him think that the animals—_all _of them picked off the street, no less—needed to say goodbye to him?

In the ritzy Government Building.

At the same time.

Terun barely managed a goodbye to Katchison before the peacekeepers ushered all the animals—and his twin—out of the room.

_Well, some goodbye, Katchi, huh? _Terun smiled after them.

_I'm going to miss you, warts and all._

Nara could see the shocked looks on the peacekeepers' faces when they realized that the people waiting outside were_ all_ part of her family.

"Your parents are crazy!" one peacekeeper said as they started pouring in.

_Maybe so, _Nara thought, _but I would do anything for them._

_My siblings might not be related by blood, but they're certainly related by heart._

Heucheras was prepared when his brother strode into the room.

"Heucheras, you're an IDIOT! You're going to get killed!"

"What, me?" Heucheras smirked, "Then call me kamikaze, bro."

Heucheras didn't know whether his brother was laughing, crying or screaming. "I could tell everyone that you're ten, you know. Then they'd have to pull you out!"

Heucheras gazed at his brother. "Do you really think that would change anything? Those Capitol creeps are cruel. This would just be another point of interest."

Thistle was weeping softly into a pillow.

She had tried to go in to see Heucheras twice. Both times, a peacekeeper had blocked the way.

"Young lady, you don't want to see him. You might have to kill him!" the guard had said. He was well-meaning, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.

Thistle was hopelessly in love with Heucheras, and no human could change that.

She got up from the couch and charged the door.

_The cage is strong_

_I am stronger._

Eiken decided to compose a poem. It was his favorite way to vent—and man, did he ever need to vent!

_The cage is strong_

_I am stronger_

_The wait is long_

_I'll wait longer_

_The wind is sharp_

_I'll push through_

_I guess I'll do anything_

_All for you._

If anyone had seen it, they would have labeled it a love poem—and he supposed it was a love poem, in a way. It was an ode to his home, his Twelve. No one would come to see him—he had no family, and no others to care about. He was weird that way.

_Can't you see?_

_The earth gives and takes,_

_Bends and breaks_

_The brave souls _

_Who descend into its depths_

Eiken supposed that he might want to write some other things. His talent, if he should, by some miracle, be the victor, was quite obvious.

Thing is, he knew he wasn't going to win.

He just hoped he would live on through his poems.

Aimee greeted some various, shallow friends.

_They didn't come for me, _she thought. _They come for my façade, the sweet but stupid Aimee that I have created._

She smiled at the crowd. _Next time you see me in person, I'll be giving the inaugural address. Maybe you should ask for my autograph while you can._

**Next up—the train ride! Also, please visit my poll on my profile to vote on your favorite DIY Hunger Games character (and you can't vote for the one you created, creators!)**


	27. On the Train

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue! **

The countryside whizzed by behind the glass. Eiken decided a poem was in order:

_A life once lived blurs into smears._

_ What significance have my years?_

_ My ho-hum life's my cross to bear,_

_ I need people to know I was there._

Eiken didn't want to leave his comfortable plush seat, even though he was horribly hungry. He could hear loud squealing noises from the closest dinner car, and he decided he didn't need an injury before the games even began.

Heucheras stared into the face of the scandalized representative.

"Whaaaat? It's my food. I can eat it how I like!" He winked rakishly at the poor woman, and put his face back in his food—literally. He could see his District partner giggling into her milkshake. What was her name—Thissa? Thistle. Yes, that was it. He looked up, smiled at her, and for some reason she turned a deep shade of red. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm fine. Really!" she said.

"Okay, Thistle! Say, weren't you the girl who told me where the water was?"

Thistle was unable to reply. She seemed to be stunned.

"Wassa matter—shade cat got your tongue?" Thistle flinched. Heucheras realized his mistake—shade cats weren't a laughing matter in District Eleven. Muttants never were. "Sorry! I didn't mean it like that! Oh man, I'm so sorry…"

Thistle smiled weakly, "It's okay…it's okay."

Thistle couldn't believe it. She was sitting across from him—okay, she could believe that, they were district partners, but still—and he had stopped his unbelievably funny antics to talk to boring old her!

That moment had been ruined by the crack about the shade cats.

It had been all Thistle could do not to dissolve into tears.

_She had met the first one in the bathroom. At first, she had thought it was Bettisan looking for some food. "Here, kitty," she had cried. "Are you lost?" _

_Touching that monster dispelled that theory. It was cold, like ice. Thistle realized that she had made a terrible mistake._

_Memories, the memories. That's what shade cats did, after all. They ripped out every sick, sad, twisted thing in you to the open, making you relive it until it disappeared—the cat, not the memories, of course. They were meant to tourture and paralyze people in the Rebellion, but now they were often a source of amusement for Peacekeepers…see how many people could take until they cracked…_

"It's okay," she said. His apology was enough.

Just as long as no shade cats showed up in the arena, it would be enough.

Nothing would erase those memories…

Violenta eyed the blonde mockingly.

"So what if I said you're stupid?"

The girl stared defiantly at Violenta. "I'm not stupid."

Violenta gave a harsh laugh. "You're blonde, aren't you?"

"What of it?"

"Then you're stupid."

Violenta easily dodged the blow. It had been made in anger, and it wasn't well aimed.

"I am NOT STUPID, you bloated emo COW. What's with the bruise, anyway? Is it painted on? I bet it is, isn't it? You're just a little attention seeker, aren't you?"

That was a grave error on the girl's part. Violenta threw her light frame into the window.

Amazingly, she didn't look hurt—just stunned.

That was about when a couple of Peacekeepers showed up and hauled the girls away from each other.

The girl craned her head around. "Attention-grubbing cow," she managed to whisper.

That would not do at all. "Dumb shrimp," Violenta whispered back.

Oh, it was ON. Big time.

Irina couldn't believe it. That girl, who didn't know her and certainly didn't look all that bright herself, had just walked up to her and call her dumb! What a stereotyped…ah…witch!

She was one of the people that Irina needed to teach a lesson to.

_I won't forget this, bruise girl. Not for a single instant._

_Boy? _K'Torian sounded puzzled.

_Yeah, K.T?_

_ You could just end it now._

Elan jumped. _Nope. I can't commit suicide._

_ Why not? On my planet, if a great wrong is being committed to you and you have no way of changing it, it is better to have control. It is considered an honorable death. A statement of protest. We call it katonryuu—reckoning death._

Elan flushed. _We aren't on your planet, K'Torian! Now SHUT UP!_

For just a moment, K'Torian thought he might. For just a moment, he was in the dark, blessedly alone. No one bothered him. He was simply floating alone.

Then, he was back on the train with his (wistful?) ward.

What was happening?

Aimee ran over her fight plan in her head. _Okay. Step one,chariots. Almighty Unknown Being, please make sure I do not have idiot stylists. Step two: interview. Must play quiet, sweet, nice child, assuming they allow me to…Step three…three…._

Aimee shut her head off. She supposed it would help to have a five minute break. A fresh mind was a productive mind. She stared out the window. She had never seen what the world looked like sped up. This was a watercolor portrait, with all the blues and greens and yellows and reds mixing.

The best part was she was going to rule it and make it better.

She remembered when she had first realized that there was power in this world for the taking—power to make the world a better place, if used wisely.

"_Mommy?" Three-year-old eyes stared out from behind messy bangs. _

"_Yes, dear?" Aimee was seated on her mother's lap. The whole family was curled up around the television for a public broadcast._

"_Who's that?" Aimee jabbed her pointer finger toward the screen._

"_That's President Snow, dear." At that point, Aimee's father muttered something that Aimee wasn't able to hear, as her mother shushed him._

"_Pwesident? That's a funny name!" Aimee laughed._

"_No, dear, that's not his name, that's what he does."_

"_What does a Pwesident do?"_

Explanation followed.

That's when Aimee knew what she wanted to be. She wanted to make everything better for everyone, because President Snow was doing a horrible job.

Everything could use a kinder hand here, and the best helping hand is at the end of your own arm.

June sat with her eyes wide open. Everything was so pretty here! It didn't matter that she couldn't hear a thing when there was so much to see. Her breath was fogging up the window as she feasted her eyes on the gorgeous landscape. There was nothing near this beautiful at home!

A red-headed girl grabbed her by the arm and led her along. June kept trying to meet her eyes, but the girl wouldn't look at her. June tugged her on the arm, and the girl sadly shook her head. She shifted her hand over her mouth. _Can't talk._

Ohh…June tugged on her ears, shook her head and covered her mouth. _Can't hear. Don't need to talk._

The girl paid no mind, but June swore she almost saw a smile.

Maybe she had made a new friend.

_Dear Rosie,_

_This will probably be the last time you'll hear from me. I just want you to know some things. For one, I really do like starry walks under a full moon, just like you do. I just wasn't man enough to admit it back in D1. Second, I really didn't mean it when I said I wanted to go to the Games. I wanted a house in the city with three children, two dogs, and zero tessarae. Please don't call me idealistic—my family has money, and we could have done it. I would have loved to put a ring on your finger if I hadn't been pulled. Lastly, I lo—_

Cronus crumpled up the fancy stationary and threw it at the window. It bounced off and rested on the plush red floor of the passenger car. Why couldn't he get it right? It was now or never! Now or freaking...n—nev…

Cronus slouched over in his seat and cried. Why, cruel world, why?

_No. _A small voice, nearly nonexistent but persistant, echoed through his mind. Cronus stopped weeping for a moment.

_You can still live the Panemic Dream. You can come home._

_How? _Cronus thought, distracted momentarily.

_You clearly underestimate yourself. You're strong. You're fast. You've had training. You're a Career, for goodness' sake! Act like it!_

Cronus lifted his head. Yeah, the little voice was right—he could come home. It wouldn't be easy, but he had a head start on most of the other tributes_._ He knew how to fight.

_Rosie, I want our firstborn to be named Victor. Or if it's a girl, Victory._

_It'd be such a fitting name._

Zuran strutted to the seat next to Brielle.

"Is this seat…taken?"

Brielle glared at him. _Man, she's hot when she's ticked, _Zuran thought.

"No," she said, "and that's not going to change."

Zuran didn't take the hint and sat down anyway. Brielle glared at him again. "Aren't you listening? Get lost, moron!"

"I may be a moron, honey, but I'm a _hot _moron, and I'm available," Zuran winked. _If this doesn't work, she's a robot, _he thought.

He began to lift his shirt over his head.

Brielle let out a snort of disgust. What a chauvinist birdbrain! Did he really think that he was going to entrance _her _by taking off his shirt, even if he did have incredibly toned washboard abs?

She extended one arm and smacked her district partner upside his empty crainium.

_Buddy, I want to see how you look with a knife in your chest._

_ You'll be my first victim—because believe it or not, I can do better than you._

_Maybe that hottie from District Four is available. I've always liked danger in my guys. It makes things so much…sexier._

Kleilr walked up to the trench-coat-girl from Three. She may not have looked vulnerable—but the really fun people to destroy were the ones that didn't have flaming neon targets on their backs. Besides, he knew the ropes. He wasn't a new player in this game—and she probably wasn't as thorny as she looked.

"Hey," he said. The girl looked at him searchingly. She was obviously wary. She also obviously wasn't born yesterday.

"Isn't it a little early to be asking after an alliance?" She sounded sarcastic, but Klielr could see that there was more to her tone than that; this was a joke. Yup, she _definitely _wasn't as thorny as she looked.

"Is fraternizing with the enemy a crime when she isn't an enemy yet?"

She looked at him, still suspicious. "I'd prefer not to get attached to someone I may have to kill, thank you."

"I'm not suggesting you do. I just wanted to say hello! Geez!"

Was that a hint of a smile? "Yep, the Hunger Games is a great place to meet people. Hello, how are you, I'm about to shove a spear down your throat!"

Both of them laughed. "Yeah, nothing like a potluck with the threat of death hanging over your head!" He did have to parry her, after all.

This was going to be even easier than he thought.

She still didn't trust this boy. He could double-cross her any minute. Aka knew not to get too involved with him.

Still, it might not be a bad idea to get to know some of the others. You never know who might be your savior when you're dangling over a pit of Muttants. He did seem nice enough. Maybe he could be a valuable asset. He did look strong after all, and he did seem witty—not like most of the boys she had met.

Maybe she should give this boy a shot.

Nara sighed and kicked the back of her seat. Being alone was never easy. She was used to being in close confines with a dozen or more other people, all wanting a hug or help or _someone _to please get the dishes done before dinner.

Freedom was terrifying. Not having a schedule, another job to do, another shoe to tie was scary. Nara, far from relishing being free, was almost screaming for something to do. She reminded herself of what happened to collies when they weren't walked. They would almost always end up utterly destroying something. She decided to pace. Perhaps that would help. It was something to do, anyway. The clock needed to keep ticking. Time didn't stop, even for a girl shipped off to die.

She wondered what her family was doing at home. Probably going along as normally as they could, given the circumstances. At the moment, she would give anything to be there, assisting to keep her family's chaos organized.

She hoped that her death was strictly kid-friendly, like falling off a cliff or something.

It wouldn't do to scare the little ones.

Keira navigated her way towards the little girls' room and considered the other contestants.

There was something about the huge Career boy from One that belied a soft underbelly. Okay, maybe just a soft _spot_, but that was as good as having no shell at all in the Games. It was the girl from One that scared her more. That girl seemed determined to win, as if she had a _cause _like Keira herself did. Whatever it was, Keira wouldn't fancy getting on the wrong side of her.

The boy from Two acted dumber than a box of rocks. Keira thought that even someone like her could take him out, no problem. Not that she planned to—he was a human, and she would kill only if absolutely necessary. The girl was your standard-issue Career, joined in that respect by the girl from Four—

"OOOF! Sorry! I didn't see you!" Keira tumbled to the floor. When she looked up to see her unfortunate partner-in-smash, she stared at her warily. This girl—from Six, if she remembered correctly—didn't look nice, or at least, not truly nice. She looked like a shrewd politician. It wouldn't hurt to be polite, though. "Hi."

The girl smiled.

Okay, she _definitely _didn't look nice.

Wisteria smiled at the girl.

_Okay, this one's nothing to think about. She's a little squirt. I should be nice though—she may be another Thistle._

"How are you?" Wisteria asked. _Okay, this calls for polite, but formal. No hint at all of condescension. I'm her friendly older schoolmate. That tends to work on pipsqueaks._

"Good enough," she said. "I've seen better days." Wisteria waited for the girl to ask a question of her, but none were forthcoming. _Not much of a talker, is she? _"Hello? Anyone home?"

The girl managed a smile. "I'm sorry, but I'd really appreciate it if you left me alone for a while. I need to go. Really bad."

Wisteria mentally slapped herself. "Oh, I'm sorry. By all means, GO!"

As she watched the girl walk off, Wisteria moved away herself, looking for other potential allies.

Lucca tapped the window.

_Tap, tap. Tiptapatapatap. Tap, CLANG! _

He wasn't much of a musician, but since he had neglected to bring a set of paints, this was the next best art.

He wondered what he was going to say to his brother—_if _he saw his brother. It'd be just as likely that the first his brother heard of his Reaping was when they flashed his face up on the big screen. Artists never really worried about that sort of thing.

It was more than just dreamy artists, though. Lucca had had no idea that that subculture even _existed_, but there was indeed a sizable population of disenchanted people in the Capitol—they called themselves the anti-Gamers. It was more like a style of thought for "rebellious" youth than an actual movement, though. Most of those people just weren't serious—why would they be? It was posturing and pecking—nothing more.

Moreover, there was the matter of Katniss to think about. Ah…Katniss. Perfect in every way. But she belonged to Peeta, and that wouldn't change.

It wouldn't hurt to meet her, though.

Maybe just once.

He was going to die, after all.

Savannah practiced the blows in her head.

Fighting was both a battle on the field and off of it. Knowing your enemy was vital. Little ones could literally be broken by your own force; for larger ones you had to use their own force against them, like a stupid old pre-Panem fighting moving-picture. Clover liked to use those as training equipment, but she held up the aggressor as the example. He was the true embodiment of fighting, she said, full of cold wrath and fire. Savannah didn't care. She just liked listening to the gibberish voices—she had been six at the time, after all.

Clover, she supposed, was the closest she had ever had to a parent. Clover was her Head Trainer, so she was the only one who stuck around for more than six months.

More than that, Savannah sensed that Clover genuinely cared what happened to her. It wasn't love; not even close. It wasn't even _like_, really; she just cared whether Savannah got her head smashed in or fell off a cliff in the Arena. She had been a tribute herself, so she knew that the training was all for the better. It was like an old, grumpy schoolmaster whacking sense into a student teacher. She could almost hear the yells of "What are you, a turtle?" and, "Was that supposed to be a punch?". Mostly, though, it was, "If this were real, you'd be pushing daisies, kiddo!"

Clover was the only one that Savannah would miss.

_When trouble needs to happen_

_For time to run its course_

_We decide we need to help_

_We are the Bedlam Force!_

Sweet, sweet girls. Rosie hoped that they would smile again when she was gone. She hoped they would still be friends without her around. She doubted that the Bedlam Force would ever hold another meeting, but normal friendship was good, too. Trouble, like anything else, didn't last forever.

Still, Rosie mourned the loss of the good old "Bedlam Force, the Society for Chaos". Mainly it had been harmless, simply, ah, voicing the opinion of the masses to certain obnoxious persons. When Kay Flanders ratted out the boy who had been stealing textiles to make a coat for his sister, the Bedlam Force had left cat feces on all her doorsteps. It certainly had been a sight to behold when she found one of the deposits. Let's see, what else…ah, yes, the Peacekeeper Triumvirate.

Even _thinking_ of that name put a smile on Rosie's face.

_January 7__th__, 189__th__ year of Glorious Panem. Elysium Carrel Kayson had a bone to pick with certain Peacekeepers who had kept the workers late on Yuul Eve. Yuul (though it wasn't always called Yuul; it was also Channika or Kaanza or Eedelfiter depending on who you asked.) was a time of "celebration" of what the Capitol had done for the Districts. Even if it wasn't really celebrated as such in said Districts, it was a three-day break, starting on the evening of the 24__th __of December, and it was not to be missed—or messed with._

_These Peacekeepers had made a cardinal error, as far as the Bedlam Force was concerned, and they agreed with Elysium that something must be done._

_At twelve that morning, five shadows crept up on the first victim's house; then the second victim's; then the third's_

_When the Peacekeepers woke up that morning, they saw their houses decorated with plastic, sneering, fat, red, gnomes._

_If they tried to go outside, the gnomes would all start singing Chipmunk Yuul songs at the same time. _

_Ah, yes. _Rosie thought.

_D8 will be much quieter without us, no?_

"You're Crisanto, right?" The boy smiled at Crisanto.

_Dead meat, _Crisanto thought. "Yeah…" Crisanto smiled back. If this boy was going to die in the bloodbath, what did he have to lose by talking to him? He seemed nice enough. It was such a waste to have him die here.

"What's your name? Mine's Lorenzo!" The boy seemed perpetually happy, an odd emotion for someone on the train to Slaughterville.

"I'm Crisanto," Crisanto replied. The boy nodded.

"What kind of crazies do you think they'll have this year?"

It was just like talking to one of his buddies at home. "Oh, I wouldn't know. They don't exactly wear glowing neon signs!"

The boy laughed. "No, but there are other ways to tell."

Crisanto decided that there was something that needed to be asked. "Dude, why are you happy on the Death Express?"

Lorenzo blinked slowly. "Well…it wouldn't be of any use to feel down when you've got problems. If you're happy, at least you'll have good memories for…well…you know…" The boy broke off and looked down.

Crisanto understood the boy's reasoning, but that would be a tough path to follow if his friends continued to appear in his thoughts on a secondly basis.

This boy was stronger than his chubby frame let on.

Lorenzo stared at the ground.

There were some things that optimism could not fix. Realism had its place, especially considering his chances of survival. He had to face it: he was pudgy, slow, and not very bright.

Being sunny was what he was best at, not weaponry.

No, no, that was no way to think. He needed to stay strong. His father would have wanted him to stay strong…

Lorenzo hurried away from the other boy, buried his face in his hands, and cried, making sure no one could hear him.

Crade ticked off his future kills on his fingers.

First, June. The little deaf redhead would die anyway—he might as well do the deed.

Second, Lorenzo. That kid got on his NERVES! He lived in a world of marshmallow clouds and soda-pop rain, and THAT had no place in the Arena.

Third, Irina. Little dumb blondes were only going to get in his way. He didn't want any of the other Careers hitting on her.

Speaking of hitting on people, the Career girl from Two was one _foxy _chick.

No, no, no. Crade mentally slapped himself. Now was not the time for the fatal affliction known as love. That would get him killed. Crade could imagine his father shaking him by the shoulders, telling him to get his head out of the clouds and into the Games.

Crade knew his father was knowledgeable about these things

He turned his attention back to his list.

_Let's see…number four…_

Jarrah exited the little boys' room to find that someone had taken his seat. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah?" The boy looked at him like he was an annoying fly that he was too lazy to smack into oblivion.

"I was sitting there, dude," Jarrah was slightly miffed, but all he wanted was for the boy to vacate the seat. Apparently the boy misinterpreted Jarrah's intentions.

"Yeah?" The boy's eyes fired up. "Wanna make something of it?" He rose from the seat, angry as all get out.

Jarrah jumped. "Dude, I don't want to fight you now. I just want my seat back!"

"You shouldn't have signed up for the Games then, sissy!"

Okay. That was _uncalled for_. Jarrah began to get angry. "I was _picked_, buddy. And I'm no SISSY!"

"Oh yeah? You're right…you don't even deserve THAT name. Let's see…how about…"

The following word was bleeped out on the Gamemakers' orders.

Jarrah launched himself at the boy, ready to maim.

Terun was seriously TICKED OFF. Here he was, on the train to nowhere, having to leave the one person and place that he loved, and some kid wanted his seat?

Okay, the kid could have his seat…over his dead body.

He supposed the Peacekeepers would intervene, but he didn't care.

He could get some good damage in before then.

Katchi wouldn't like it, but for the moment, Katchi didn't matter…

**Oh…my…GOSH…gasp…that took so long to write. We are at the Capitol, part ONE next chapter! And may the odds be ever in your favor!**


	28. Getting Ready, Part One

**I don't own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Zuran looked at his stylist and head designer, who were eying him with an expression that could only be described as awe. Zuran wasn't surprised. Why should he be-he was perfect in every way-a prize to work with, he figured, though not exactly his words. The designer shut his gaping mouth and became all business.

"Okay, so we'll play to your strengths... you'll be shirtless, and we'll get a bikini for the little lady." Zuran knew there was only one "lady" in these Games, and his nonexistent brain nearly shorted out at the prospect of seeing his district partner practicly naked.

" A bikini?" Brielle smiled slyly.

"Halter top. Hope you're not squeamish about showing that much skin." The man winked. Yuck, he was _flirting _with her. Perverted old man. Oh well- it couldn't be helped. Animal magnetism didn't exactly have an off switch.

"What about my partner?" She asked. Hopefully, she wouldn't be on his lap or anything.

"Well, we're giving him a toga. He's going to rip it off-revealing a pair of golden shorts- and throw it into the crowd."

Brielle rolled her eyes. _Bet he'll love that,_ she thought.

Cronus could barely breathe under all the rocks. His idiotic head stylist had decided to make them living, breathing gemstones. Cronus was a ruby, and the stones were everywhere-well, everywhere except under his skintight black jumpsuit. He hoped that his partner was going through the same thing, or he'd go CRAZY! He looked at his hands and sighed, noting that they were all over his gloves as well. If he ever got out of this place alive, he would ban the blasted stones from the Victors Village. No exceptions. Ever.

Irina ogled herself in the mirror. Yep, she certainly was one giant emerald. Comfortable? No. Stylish? No. Happy? Not on your life! Giant emerald...yes. She and her District partner were meant to be side by side in a treasure chest, but she didn't think that would work if they were both this size. There wasn't a creativity limit on those floats, but there was a SIZE limit that was strictly enforced. She had only seen a float that broke it once-and that was the case that created the limit itself. Even though that float was removed from the parade, the girl from that district won that year. Irina laughed inwardly. Yeah, that had been one heck of a publicity stunt.

The run-up to the Games could be more stressful than the Games themselves, Irina mused. Fighting was one thing-at least you often knew what your opponent was thinking. No matter how hard it was to trust someone in the arena, the motivations for certian things were often more obscure _before_ the bloodbath than after. Geez. What a mess!

Aka examined the jumpsuit. It was covered in circuts and fuses galore. Very D3, but..what was it?

"Excuse me, but it looks pretty plain. What's the catch?" she asked imploringly. The man turned around and laughed. He actually was more of a boy than a man-maybe around her brother's age.

"See, when I give the word, it'll explode, and you'll be left with a glittery silver dress."

Aka blinked. "It won't, you know, annihlate me?"

The stylist laughed some more. Aka decided that he had a nice laugh. "Do you think I'd blow up one of my own charges, kiddo?" He had a nice smile, too. Aka decided that he reminded her of her older brother in other ways, as well-he was confident and friendly. Aka supposed that she could become friends with him. Wait...no. Now was not the time to form unweildly attachments.

Still...she'd miss what could have been. He seemed like a nice guy, and he would have been a good friend...maybe.

Jarrah choked when his stylist explained the premise of his costume-again.

"Nuh-uh. No way are you blowing me up!"

The man sighed. "We've been through this before. It's not going to blow you up-just make sure you get attention. You like attention, don't you?"

Jarrah shook his head. "Not if it kills me!"

The man sighed again. "Listen, this is how it works..."

"I'm not a techie!"

The head stylist smacked his forhead with his hand.

This was going to take a while.

Savannah, for once in her life, smiled in earnest. She found herself liking her costume, with the rainbow bikini top and its shimmery, opalescent scales on the mermaid tail. She had been told that every single one of the hundreds of scales on that custom made tail were real opals, brushed with a dusting of mica. They had brushed out her hair from its usual no-muss ponytail and added hair extensions until it lapped at the small of her back. Every scar that she had amassed in training had been expertly concealed. She looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the person staring back.

Who was she?

More importantly, who had given her permission to be so beautiful?

This wasn't a tribute, and it wasn't a warrior, either.

This was...a girl.

Crade now knew how it was to be a god.

At least, he looked like one. In the parade, he would be Poseidon, lord of the seas.

Crade smiled. Yup, he was definately powerful Merman today, hitman tomorrow. He wondered what his partner would look like-she, while not the prettiest girl in the Games, seemed to have potential. He knew an attractive girl when he saw one-he was a teenage guy, after all.

He hefted his trident into the air and felt the sharp points. He ought to forget about the girls. They would be teammated and enemies in the arena, not ladies, and he should treat them as such.

He wondered if he could sneak the trident into the arena.

June's eyes were half-closed. This...was...perfect. She had never had anyone fuss over her like this! She had had a trim-the first in a long while, no less- and her hair was being coiled into a halo around her head. The best part was that the man and women in charge of her didn't seem to care that she was deaf! They were always writing down what they were going to do and showing it to her before they did anything, and June was grateful for that. There was still pity in their gazes, but at least they attempted to hide it, which was more than most people ever did. To them, she reasoned, she had to be just another person of many that they had to fix up before...before what?

What happened next?

Lorenzo was happily chattering away with the people who were working with him. He knew that what they discussed was unimportant, but he was going to make the best of it.

"Okay, so then what happened?" He was trying to keep his mind off the Games. No sense worrying about something one couldn't change.

"You really don't know the story of Kosee Adale?" The assistant stared in shock, "Quite a crime, buddy...we'll exenorate you." They went on to tell the wackiest ghost story that Lorenzo had ever heard in his life.

Kosee was some kid in the thirteenth Games. He was officially from District Eleven, but _everyone _knew he wasn't-he had said himself in outtakes that he was born in District Thirteen, and was spirited away at age two. When he died, he pointed at the guy who stabbed him and said his oldest child would die in the Games-and all the oldest children in that family thereafter. What was scary-according to them, anyway-was that ever since then, all the oldest children in the Tessan family have been taken in the Games. "It's officially a coincidence," said one of the others, "but _everyone_ knows better. Old Kosee got them. You can't hide from Kosee."

Klielr sniffed at the plush fabric. Yep. Definately perfumed. What did this woman think she was doing?

"Uh...ma'am?" Klielr put on his sweetest grin.

"Yes?" She was a flurry of movement, barely having time to take a breath.

"Your assistants...they didn't happen to put perfume on this, did they?" The woman stepped closer and took a wiff.

"OH! Yes, someone certianly did! Stupid Serio! Sorry, sorry. I'll get this fixed pronto!" She scurried away, red in the face.

_Stupid woman_, he thought. _Wouldn't be worth killing even if I got the chance._ Sure, she was annoying, but he didn't need her blood on his hands.

_I'll save that for the arena,_ he thought.

Wisteria wasn't paying attention to her stylists any more than she needed to. The interview and her poise in the parade were more important.

_Okay, so should I play sweet or saucy? Different in the parade versus the interview? Should I stay close to my partner, or stay away? _Wisteria knew that her mentor and handler would take care of this-but what could she do? She was a control freak, and she hoped that her entourage was more flexible than she was...


	29. Getting Ready, Part Two

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Violenta, to her own suprise, didn't hate her costume. For one, it was all dark. Dark colors were something of a theme in Violenta's wardrobe, and she found the familiarity reassuring. Secondly, it was striking-hence the feathers that reached ten feet long and the glitter-but it was not overly campy-like the oversize tree costumes she had seen time and time again from her district. This year, the boy and girl from Seven were to be birds in an ENORMOUS tree-and at one point, they were supposed to use jetpacks (who knew?) to fly around the tree and into the crowd! Usually, Violenta didn't like crowds, but this sounded too fun to complain about!

Crisanto grinned. This was going to be totally sick! Marisol, his sweet (and completely _smokin' hot!) _head stylist rocked! The only drawback: Her forte was design. Aside from the clothes, she actually wasn't too bright. That was okay, though-her beauty more than made up for that, and _that chest_! He wondered exactly how many times she had gone under the knife for those! Plastic surgery, while frivolous, ran rampant in the Capitol, sometimes for the good, and sometimes for the bad (or in this case, ugly!). Crisanto would admit it-he knew he was a ladykiller with chauvanistic tendencies, but hey, they deserved to be looked at.

They were such beautiful creatures, after all.

Kiera blinked. "I'm dressing as a lion?" That didn't sound bad to her-she had heard that lions were majestic and brave, things she hoped to be in the arena.

The woman was buzzing around with a basket that was, of all things, squirming. "That's right! You and the dear, dear boy will be on a pile of cloth, dressed as calico lions! Clever, huh? Still,that's not the best part!"

Kiera nodded. The woman's enthusiasm was contagious. "What is?"

The woman held up the basket. "See for yourself!" As if on cue, a furry calico head popped out of the basket, looked at the surrounding people, and yawned. Kiera squealed.

"They're going on the float with us?"

"Yup! Everybody loves kittens!"

Kiera didn't think that these kittens would help with the "tough" image, but they sure were cute. "Where will they be?" she asked.

The woman laughed. "They'll be crawling all over the float, being adorable!"

Something in this sounded ominous to Kiera, but she couldn't put her finger on what...

Lucca stroked the kitten in his lap. "What's her name?" he asked.

The woman looked at him, amused. "Right now, it's Kitten. You can name her if you like," she said. After that, Lucca felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see that the kitten was gnawing at one of his cuffs, looking quite pleased with herself.

"No! Bad cat!" he laughed. The kitten, seeming to take this more seriously, curled up into a ball and mewled. Lucca hurriedly doubled back. "No, no, I didn't mean it! You're a sweet girl!" The kitten, seemingly satisfied, stopped mewing and went to sleep.

Now, what to name her? He didn't want to name her Katniss, the first thing that came to mind. That was just...an unfitting name for an adorable calico. Peeta? No, that was a boy's name...hm...Lucca looked at the kitten and smiled as the right name came to him.

"Hmm...Rue. That's perfect. You're a little Rue, aren't you?"

The kitten opened its eyes and purred.

Rosie leaped into the air as her head stylist barked at her. "Pay attention, Rosie-su. Open your eyes, please," He swooped in with contacts and an obvious mission.

Yes, he was an eccentric guy, all right, with his weird clothes and intentionally weird accent. Rosie did know, however, that part of the reason he seemed so strange to her was that he was of a race that wasn't common in District Nine. He was Aasu-or looked Aasu, anyway-but she knew that most of the Aasu weren't as showy about their heritage. Nor were anyone else, for that matter. There was the Capitol and then there were the rest of the people, and those were the groups that mattered.

She recognized the suffix from her friend, Violet, who had been told ever since she was born that she had been adopted from a very nice Aasu couple that loved her, but couldn't take care of her for lack of food. She had always been encouraged to explore her Aasu heritage by her parents, and she did so happily.

Of course, it didn't matter who your parents were when you were put into the arena.

They'd kill you all the same.

_Elan-ki?_

_ Yeah, K.T.?_

K'Torian thought better of his intended question. _Never mind,_ he said.

Elan was covered completely by a mask that obscured everything but his eyes, which the designer had described as "suprisingly not half-bad looking."

K'Torian wondered what that meant. Would she have shown only his nose if that had been his only decent-looking part?

The designer had at first wanted to give him full-body plastic surgery, but Elan had somehow managed to convince her that it wasn't necessary if he wore a mask.

Were all humans this shallow?

Terun yowled as the wax was removed. "Ow!" he screamed. He slammed the poor assistant against the wall and took a deep breath. He could imagine Katchi laughing at him right now.

Darn whoever that sorry soul was who invented waxing! He wanted to kill all the assistants-they all disregarded personal space way too much.

"Someone get the medics!" the assistant screamed before promptly crashing into the wall. The head stylist was apolegetic.

"I didn't know she would react like that. Sorry, sorry, so sorry!"

Nara was carted away on a gurney. The man had made such an exquisite costume, lavished the best make-up on her, and told her all about her-and her partner's-float. She seemed happy, but all she really was doing was worrying about her family at home. She seemed...awkward being pampered.

She had fainted after seeing her own reflection.

She didn't deserve to be so pretty.

Heucheras sped down the hallway. He glanced about warily, then darted down another hallway when he heard the yells of his mentor not far behind.

No way in...heck was he going to wear THAT! No way!

They needed to learn a lesson, and fast!

Thistle wonderred what was going on. She hadn't minded her costume much. Sure, it was a little frilly, but it wasn't _that _awful. Why had Heucheras run away?

The woman scowled. "Silly boy!" Thistle saw Heucheras brought kicking and screaming into another room.

What in the name of all that was holy...

Ode to Purgatory

Where do they send souls

Just inches from the coals

Of awful places, burning evermore?

Why, that is obvious

At least, to me-because

I've been to Prep; seen what it has in store!

They make a tawdry costume, which you do not wish to wear

And they, through jib and jabber, quickly pollute the air

Frivolous at very best, downright cruel at worst

I hope to try and push and push

And fin'lly, freely burst:

Through the door, up the stairs, out the thirteenth story,

Anything is better than this downright purgatory!

-Eiken

Aimee winced, but tried not to squeal. After all, she needed to put on a front, even to her stylists. The "Antaimee" she created had to be with her at all times, so that she would be more believeable.

Before she knew what was happening, Aimee-and by extension, her mask, "Antaimee"-were on the float.

The doors sang open. It wasn't exactly a beautiful note, but it sounded as if it had been waiting for them.

_What happens now? _Aimee thought.


	30. Kuci's Parade

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Please don't sue!**

Babies were screaming. The air smelled of sweat and sweet, sticky Eighters, so named because they resembled the puffs of cotton that were used to make textiles in District 8. Kuciasia Masady was looking forward to this parade, as always, and she nibbled the sugarspun puff that she had managed to get from the shop towards the back of the stadium. It had been a close one, though-so many people had wanted their Eighters and dipped-apples and water that the poor shop-keeper was being mauled, and Kuci had almost gotten crushed by the hungry parade-viewers.

This was the eleven-year-old's favorite part of Games Week. This Capitol girl was all about the crazy, exotic floats. She could almost taste the excitement of the crowd, who, while most favored the arena, couldn't help but get excited at the impending climax. This year, though, was doubly exciting for Kuci, as this was the first year she had ever been allowed to go here all by herself! Her family had two new additions-make that two _noisy _new additions-and her parents had decided to forego the parade. Kuci had forgotten her normally ever-present dignity and indulged in a temper-tantrum. By the end of that, her tired parents were more than happy to see her leave for a few hours. She had promised that she would be a _very_ good girl, and her parents had sent her with five embseal coins to buy herself some festival food.

Yes! The opening music! The announcer's voice soared over the gathering, silencing every last errant noise. Even the birds defered to the crackling speaker.

"HELLO, CAPITOL!" The announcer sounded exuberant, playing off the energy in the stadium perfectly. The crowd screamed in response. Kuci yowled at the top of her lungs in accordance.

"IT'S THAT TIME AGAIN! TIME FOR...THE GAMES PARADE!" More yowling ensued. Kuci's ears were ringing, but she did't give a hoot. This was part of the experience. Some five-year-old sitting on his father's shoulders dropped his Eighter, and the whole thing throughly entangled itself in Kuci's stringy brown locks. Yuck.

"AND..WE START IN TEN...NINE..." The crowd joined in, "...EIGHT...SEVEN...SIX...FIVE..."

Everyone turned toward the ornate stadium doors, which were swinging open, albiet slowly. "...FOUR...THREE...TWO...ONE!"

"AND...HERE WE GO!" The crowd screamed again as the first float came out.

Kuci's eyes widened, and she stifled a laugh. This was obviously District One, and boy, did those tributes look silly! Shiny, maybe, but silly. Neither of them looked like they were having a lot of fun, either. The boy looked about ready to jump off the float...not that he would have, although Kuci had a feeling that his giant costume would have cushioned the fall. It would have been so funny to see a giant gemstone leap out of the treasure chest, though, and Kuci harbored a secret hope that he would. She wondered exactly how many embseal coins would fit in that treasure chest!

Next came District Two. Kuci didn't think there was anything all that special about it, but she could see some teenagers and young people who thought otherwise. She could see plenty of teenage boys looking at the girl like a starving man would look at a banquet. She was very pretty, but was that really what horomones did to you? She then could see that the boy was fiddling with his costume. What was he doing...Oh. He threw the costume into the crowd, revealing that he was now wearing nothing but a pair of golden shorts. There was an audible thud as several female bodies hit the ground. Yuck. She hoped that she wouldn't grow up to be so stupid.

Kuci screamed in delight as the top layers of the costumes of both the boy and girl from Three exploded into entrancing fireworks-reds, blues, and greens darted playfully around the float, almost seeming to laugh at the parade-watchers. This was why Kuci liked the floats the best! The boy didn't seem to agree with her, though, and he screamed in fear, and hopped up and down, waving his arms. The crowd roared. What a funny act!

That was about when the boy made a very rude gesture at the crowd. Kuci's eyes widened, and she scowled. What nasty behavior! Her mother and father were right about how barbaric these people were. Why, if he had been at her house, he would have been whupped!

The next float was a rolling aquarium-with real fish! These fish were in all sorts of colors-orange angels, purple eels, and some in patterns that Kuci could not name. She could see that the boy and girl were in the tank itself-somehow-smiling and waving. The boy then raised his trident, and it burst into green flame! Kuci wondered how they had managed that.

Float Five was very, very odd indeed. There was something about the girl that seemed a bit off to Kuci, and she scoured the projection on the wall, looking for a clue. The boy seemed normal enough, if a bit of a weakling. Even Kuci, who didn't like to pay attention to such things, could tell that he would be picked off early-a bloodbath death. She thought the same of the odd girl. She looked like a doll or a puppet that a small child would play with...and that a small child could break.

Float Six was obviously a historical float-though from what period, Kuci couldn't tell; she was never much for history. The boy was dressed in a long velvet robe, perhaps befitting of a king, and was smiling. Kuci couldn't imagine that a boy with such a nice smile could be mean, and she laughed at the idea of him hurting anyone. The girl, in a beautiful, floor length dress, appeared very regal as well, and she seemed to be having a good time, waving daintily at the crowd.

Kuci had to crane her head to see the top of the seventh float, and she couldn't see the tributes at all. Poopy!

That was about when they came to her.

They were black missles, swooping around the tree in crazy spirals and loops. They soared over the crowd, and Kuci could hear their laughter.

Then, a miracle happened.

One minute, Kuci was screaming happily and chomping on her Eighter. The next minute, she felt a breeze above her and a sharp tug under each armpit. Before she had anytime to protest, the ground zoomed away from her, and she realized what must have happened.

She knew that both of them were with her, each sharing her meager weight. The veiw from the air was dizzying. People were screaming, cheering, gasping. They looked so tiny, like little ants on a picnic blanket. She turned her head and could see herself on the projected image. She could hear the counsel of the boy, "take deep breaths, we don't want you puking, take deep breaths,"

"Shut your trap, buddy." That came from the other side. Kuci screamed in estacy.

They somehow set her down in the general vicinity of where she had taken off. Kuci was left speechless on the ground, almost too stunned to realize that time was passing.

This was the best Games parade ever!

Float Eight was a large sewing basket, like the ones that Kuci's mom kept around for fun. There were the tributes as...lions? Oh, calico lions! That was clever! There were...KITTENS! OH, KITTENS! Kuci screamed from the cuteness overload.

Wait...Kuci's heart caught in her throat! One of the kittens was going close to the edge of the float...oh no...no...too close...! Both of the tributes swiped for the errant kitten, but that didn't change its trajectory.

The crowd gasped as the kitten fell off the float.

No. Nonononononono.

She couldn't see it, but she doubted it was still alive.

The parade went on, though. Why wouldn't it?

The ninth float confused Kuci at first. Why wasn't the boy there? Oh, he was behind the tiki mask! She wondered why they couldn't see any of him. He wasn't that ugly, was he? If he was, she couldn't blame him. It would be awful to be ugly! Kuci had nothing to say about the girl. She was filler...plain and uninteresting-looking. Kuci wondered when the next float would come.

Float Ten was filled with bright colors and exploding party balloons. The boy looked annoyed to no end. The girl just looked plain scared. Another bloodbath kill, to be certain.

The boy then did the unthinkable when a balloon exploded in his face.

"I'M," The amplifier switched off for the next few words "...THAT YOU GAMES," More dead air, "COULD DO THIS!" The amplifier then switched off for good, though Kuci could tell he was definately saying something. What was he saying? Was the sound system bad or something?

Kuci roared at Float Eleven. The girl was dressed well enough, in a patchwork dress, holding what looked like the harvest. The boy, though...what were they thinking? He was wearing absolutely nothing but...a skien of wheat covering his...well, you know...She supposed that must have meant he was the "god" of the harvest, but...he looked more like the dwarf of the harvest, and he was not pleased. He was pouting at the crowd. She supposed also that he looked young for his age-he looked to be the same age as she was. Poor guy...Kuci would want to die if she had been placed in that situation!

Float Twelve...the big reveal. Twelve had been fantastic last year, and she had heard tales that the same man was doing the float this year, so this was going to be good!

Wait, where were the tributes? All she could see was something that looked like the entrance to a coal shaft! Wait, there they were, climbing out. They looked to be in regular miners' outfits this time around. Drat. She could see the girl mouthing something...three...two...Wait, what? A countdown?

That was about when the fountain of coal started spewing.

It must have gone 40 feet in the air. The crowd oohed and ahhed. This was so pretty!

It wasn't over yet, though, and she could see both tributes weilding what looked like matches. The pair winked, and moved the lit sticks to the coal. Apparently, though, it wasn't coal, as it promply exploded into a rainbow of colors.

Wow.

The "coal" crackled and boomed and showered in dazzling sparks, and it was still moving in a spew from the "shaft".

Wow.

The float then moved out through the other end.

It was over? Kuci wanted to cry now. All this beauty...gone?

She did console herself with this one thing, though...

She couldn't wait for next year!


End file.
